


Road Less Traveled, The

by Salr323



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salr323/pseuds/Salr323
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-_  
I took the one less travelled by,  
And that has made all the difference.  
The Road Not Taken — Robert Frost

There were points in time, Donna reflected, where the path of life changed on a dime. Sometimes you knew right away, you could feel it switch under your feet, other times you didn't know until years later. Like the day she'd walked into the Bartlet for America campaign office and talked herself into a job. That had been one of those life-changing moments; even now she could remember, as clear as day, the look on Josh's face when he'd handed her his pass and turned her life in a whole new direction.

There had been others since: the first time she'd known — known — that what she felt for her boss wasn't simply a crush or admiration or respect, but something deeper and impossible to shake. That had changed her path too, or perhaps chained her to the beaten one instead. But that humiliating evening in CJ's office, when she'd pointed out exactly how ridiculous Donna's life had become, was another. And that had sent her in a whole new direction, toward the moment when she'd uttered aloud the words that had been hovering like angry wasps in her mind for six months: I quit.

And after that…?

After that came this moment. Sitting next to her mother in an out-of-the-way café in Georgetown, killing time on a Sunday afternoon before her mom's flight home. This was one of those moments.

"Oh my Goodness!" her mom exclaimed, grabbing hold of Donna's arm. "Look who it is!"

From her level of excitement, Donna was half expecting to see Brad Pitt as she glanced around in search of a familiar face. "Who?"

"At the counter!" her mother continued, bustling to her feet. "It's Josh Lyman!"

Cursing her bad luck, Donna glanced over and instantly hated herself for noticing how good he looked in his jeans, sunglasses dangling from the neck of his t-shirt, as he paid for a coffee to go.

Donna was toying with the idea of saying 'hi' when, in a loud voice that screamed out-of-towner, her mom called, "Joshua!"

Turning in surprise, Josh stared at her mother in utter shock for a moment before, to Donna's amazement, he smiled. It was a small expression, but genuine, and brought with it a wave of unwelcome nostalgia. Worse still, as soon as his gaze darted in her direction the smile faded into unease.

Nevertheless, Josh grabbed his coffee from the counter and made his way through the mostly empty tables toward them. "Mrs. Moss," he said, with more warmth than Donna could account for, "it's good to see you again." And then, with half a look in her direction, he added, "Hey, Donna."

"Hey." She could be as cool as him; decidedly chilly in fact.

"I'm so pleased we bumped into you," her mom was enthusing. "Please — won't you sit down and join us for a little? You're not in a hurry are you?"

"Well, I-" He hesitated, glancing out the window as if the answer might lay there, and said, "Okay, sure."

Taking a seat he pried the lid off his coffee, helping himself to the sugar. "How've you been?"

"Very well, thank you. And how about you? And your mother? She sent me such a lovely letter after Donna was hurt. Do you remember Donna? Very sweet."

She did remember. Rachel Lyman knew more than most about the pain of seeing your children hurt.

"Mom's fine," Josh said, stirring his coffee slowly. "I- I haven't had time to get down there in a while."

"Oh! You sound just like Donna. That's why I came to visit! I figured it was the only way I'd get to see my daughter, so here I am. And, I have to say, I've had a ball!"

Josh gave a slight smile. "First time here?"

"Yes! Can you believe it? But now Donna has a bigger apartment it's easier for me to-"

"You moved?" His attention was suddenly fixed on Donna, his expression unreadable.

"A couple of months back." She couldn't resist adding, "Now that I actually have a decent salary I can afford something a little bigger than, you know, a shoe box so-"

"I didn't know," he said, turning his attention back to the coffee. "I didn't know you'd moved."

Donna felt a momentary pang of guilt at the oversight, but really, what did he expect? He'd hardly spoken to her in six months, how could she have told him? "I didn't send out cards or anything," she said, aware that it sounded defensive.

Josh didn't answer, just kept stirring his coffee. Into the awkward silence her mother said, "I've been watching your Mr. Santos, Josh. He seems very spirited."

"Yeah?" He looked up with a smile. "He's got a lot of…passion, I guess. He really wants to make a difference, and I think he could."

"Do you think he'll win?"

Josh shrugged. "If I didn't think he'd win, I'd still be working at the White House."

"I like what he has to say about education," her mother twittered on. "My eldest daughter's a teacher, and the stories she tells us… Right Donna? The stories Annabel tells us…"

"Yeah," Donna nodded, feeling strangely awkward in this conversation — as if she were the outsider. "Annabel's certainly got a lot of stories."

"Not that President Bartlet didn't try," her mom added hurriedly. "I mean, I know his heart was in the right place, but-"

"Yeah, I know," Josh sighed, softening it with a rueful smile. "We didn't do enough. The President would be the first one to agree that-"

"I think we did a lot," Donna said, determined to edge her way into the conversation. "I'm proud of what we achieved and-"

"Are you?" Josh was looking at her intently.

"What?"

"Are you proud of what we did?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

"Yes, I just- I wasn't sure if-" He stopped and returned to stirring his coffee. After a moment, and in a lighter voice, he said, "Did you…visit the Smithsonian?"

Donna's mom laughed. "Well, some of it. Just astonishing, isn't it? Oh, and last night we went to see a concert at… Where was it, Donna? The- "

"The Kennedy Center, mom," Donna smiled. "The NSO — it was Mozart, mostly."

"They played the Mass in C Minor," her mother added. "So moving…"

"It's a beautiful piece," Josh agreed.

"Yes, and so very-" Suddenly, her mom reached out and grasped Josh's arm, startling him. "I just want to say — it's so nice to see you again, under better circumstances, Josh."

Clearly taken aback, he just nodded. "Yeah. You too."

"I hope- It's still such a blur, really, but I hope I thanked you properly for everything you did for us — you know, in Germany. It made such a difference, I can't begin to tell you-"

"It was nothing," he replied, sipping at his coffee. "I wanted to. I wanted to do what I could."

She squeezed his arm again, then let go, turning a beaming smile on Donna. "And just look at her now," she said. "As beautiful as ever."

"Mom…"

Josh was staring into his coffee again. He didn't answer, but fortunately Donna's mother rarely needed an answer.

"I'll never forget seeing her there, with those tubes and her face so pale and…" She gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll never forget it. Never. I'm sure you won't either."

Josh glanced up, as if wondering who she was talking to. When he saw that it was him, he quietly said, "No. No, I won't."

"Did I tell you, Donna, that Josh organized my flight and the hotel and…everything?"

"Yeah." About a million times! "You-"

"And the constant updates, especially after- Well, we saw it on the news of course, but we couldn't get any information until Josh phoned to tell us you were in hospital- I was beside myself, as you can imagine, and your father was all for running right out the house and finding the first plane heading to Israel. Well, I said-"

"Mom?" Donna interrupted, attempting to dam the flood of words. "Would you like another coffee or something?"

She blinked for a moment, "Another coffee? Yes, yes that would be nice. Josh, let me buy you a coffee… "

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I really have to get going-"

"One to go then." Brooking no argument, she flagged down the waitress while Josh tried not to squirm. "After everything you did, Josh, a coffee is-"

"Really," he said, "you don't have to keep thanking me. It was- It was the least I could do."

"It really was," Donna cut in. "Don't forget he's the one who sent me there, Mom!"

It was supposed to be a joke. She laughed a little, but it fell flat into an icy silence. Josh didn't move, save for the hand that constantly stirred his coffee, faster now so that it lapped at the edges of his cup. Out the corner of her eye Donna caught her mom's fussy little motions as she unfolded and refolded the napkin on her lap, and when Donna looked over she saw her mom's face pinched into disapproval.

The waitress seemed to be taking forever to return.

Suddenly she heard the soft bleep of something electronic, and realised that Josh had his cell in his hand. Donna watched with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as he slipped it back into his pocket. Was he…? Was he using the code? The 'phone-me-now-to-get-me-out-of-this' code they'd invented?

"Ah…how long are you in town?" Josh said at last, looking up at her mom.

"Just until tonight," came her awkward reply. She seemed embarrassed. "My flight's at six."

"Ah…" he nodded. "I hope you have a good-" His cell phone rang — right on cue — and he fished it out of his pocket. "Yeah…? Okay. Thanks. I'll be right in." Snapping it shut, he stood up. "I have to go. There's a…thing, back at the office, so…" He held out his hand to Donna's mom. "Really good to see you again, Mrs. Moss."

"You know you can call me Marjorie," she said, taking his hand in both of hers and pressing tightly. "You take care of yourself, Joshua."

He flashed a brief smile. "Thanks. Have a good flight, Marjorie." And then he flung a quick, guarded look at Donna. "Bye."

"Bye," she said, knowing it sounded acidic, but unable to get over the fact that he'd used the code — he'd used it to get away from her! Of all the insulting-

He was gone before she could complete the thought. Fortunately, her mom was oblivious to his little deception, her eyes riveted on Josh as he hurried out of the café, slipped on his sunglasses and walked away down the street. He was missing his usual swagger, but aside from that he-

"Donnatella Moss, how could you be so rude?" Her mom's sharp tone cut right across her thoughts.

"What?"

"How could you speak to him like that? After everything he did for me — for us! — how could you-" She shook her head, her fingers clenched tight in the napkin. "I've never been so humiliated."

Donna blinked. "What are you talking about? What did I-?"

"How could you tell Josh it was his fault you got hurt in Gaza! How could you-?"

"I didn't say that! All I said was that he'd sent me there — which he did — and for no good reason, I might add." She paused, braving her mother's disapproval. "Anyway, it's just- It's banter, mom. It's what we do."

Her mom cut her an angry look. "You always had a smart mouth, Donna. I've never seen you use it to hurt someone before."

"I didn't hurt—"

Her mom wasn't listening, which was entirely typical. "I don't like what this place is doing to you, Donna. It's making you hard. You used to be such a sweet, caring girl, so trusting and open and-"

"It's called naïve, mom. And you're right, I was all those things once. But Josh taught me to be something different. He taught me that you can't trust anyone, that no one has your best interests at heart, and that if you don't look after yourself then no one else will!"

Her mother stiffened, chin lifting. "I don't pretend to understand your job here, Donna, or what happened between you and Josh. You're my daughter, I love you, and I'm proud of you, but- All I know is that I sat for a half hour outside the recovery room with that man, watching him cry for you. And I don't know how that fits in with him not having your best interests at heart but-"

"He was…" The image was shockingly painful. "Josh cried?"

"Of course he cried. They told us you could be brain damaged, Donna! He sat there with that piece of paper screwed up in his hand and- Well, obviously he didn't want me to see, but I'm not blind."

Josh had cried for her…? "I didn't know that," she muttered, her voice strangely husky. "I didn't- I don't remember much of anything that happened there."

Her mother softened, her firm, familiar fingers finding Donna's hand on the tabletop and giving it a squeeze. "I know you think I'm old-fashioned and very small-town, Donna, but- I miss the Donna Moss who'd give away her last dollar to anyone who asked because she'd rather trust someone than not, and because she always looked for the good in everyone she met. I miss her, Donna."

She felt ridiculously tearful and the words that tumbled out of her mouth surprised her. "I miss her too," she heard herself say. "I miss her too, Mom."

***

The early fall sunlight glared against the hood of his car as Josh slid behind the wheel, slammed shut the door and switched on the engine. Then he stopped and sank his head back, closing his eyes. It always left him feeling like this, every encounter with her left him feeling like this — inside out, as if his heart were beating in the open air. Every single time.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his eyes open and tried to forget — again. It was getting harder; each time it got just a little bit harder. Harder to forget her casual barbs, and harder to understand why she did it.

Ignoring the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, Josh threw the car into gear and pulled out into the light Sunday afternoon traffic. He wasn't sure where he was going, but it wasn't back to the office. And he couldn't face his silent apartment. So instead he just drove, his foot heavy on the gas as his mind analysed the latest twist of the knife.

It was that, more than anything, that he couldn't understand. What had he done, what the hell had he done that was so appallingly unforgivable that she hated him so much? He wasn't blind to his own faults — enough people pointed them out to him on a regular basis — but Donna had always seemed to see beyond them. She'd always been on his side, not just the side of the administration, but his side. She'd been the one person he'd trusted implicitly, the one person he'd relied upon to be there for him no matter what, and-

A sharp pain in the centre of his chest made him grit his teeth and he found himself tailgating the SUV in front. Irritably he pulled around it and dared the lights ahead to turn red before he made them. He sped through on orange — just.

Occasionally, usually when he'd had a couple of beers, was tempted to call her just to ask that question. Why do you hate me? But perhaps he was afraid of the answer, because he'd never mustered the courage to ask. He had several theories, however. At first, right after she'd left, he'd assumed it was because he'd blown off their lunch date too many times and she was teaching him a lesson — waiting for him to beg her to come back. But then, after the first time he'd run into her in New Hampshire, he'd realised there had to be more to it than that.

He could still remember the ice in her voice, the disdain in her eyes when he'd all but asked her to come and work with him on the Santos campaign. Worse, she'd laughed at his struggle to get the campaign off the ground, and that — right then — was when he'd first realised that he'd really lost her.

For all those years he'd believed she'd been working for the same ideals that drove him; the belief that America could live up to its potential, that it could deliver social justice, could banish inequality, and could light a beacon to guide the world toward a better future. That America could, once more, be the city on a hill. He believed that, he fought for that every day, and he'd thought she felt the same.

But standing there on that freezing New Hampshire street, he'd seen her in a cold light. She didn't care about him, or his ideals, all she cared about was hitching her flag to the biggest, fastest ship and sailing it to victory — no matter that Bingo Bob was at the helm. Suddenly he was beneath her and she'd seemed to revel in the fact. She'd seemed to enjoy twisting the knife, laughing at him and-

A familiar lump crept into his throat and he tried to think about something else. He made the turn from Canal Street onto the Clara Barton Parkway and put his foot down. The speed felt good, it eased the tension a little, but it wasn't enough; this afternoon he couldn't seem to shake his bitterness and anger. Or the hurt — that never left. That ache of betrayal, like a hollow space inside his chest, haunted him every day.

Perhaps it was because he missed her every day. Despite everything, he missed her smiles, her voice, just the comforting knowledge that she was there for him. But even those memories were tainted now, and instead of the hundreds of breakfasts and dinners they'd shared, his most vivid memory was of her irritation. She'd compared him to peppermint ice-cream; she'd said that he stuck in her teeth. And he hated that, hated that her casual words had stolen so many happy memories. How long had she felt like that? How long had she resented him? Had he been kidding himself about her all along? Had she always hated him? Because she had to hate him now — why else would she want to hurt him? Even when he was trying to reach out…

New Hampshire hadn't been the only time. Later, much later, he'd smiled and swallowed his pride and told her how good she was at her new job, and for a moment — God, the memory was painful in its poignancy — she'd smiled and said she'd had a good teacher. And he'd felt the ice melt a little, felt that perhaps the past eight years hadn't been a complete fabrication, and then she'd twisted the knife again.

I was talking about Will.

A joke, he supposed, but hurtful nevertheless. Not because he believed her, but because she'd known he was reaching out and she'd slapped him back. Only one way to interpret that — only one way to interpret today's little joke too.

He'd pissed her off and she hated him for it. But… It came back to the same question, over and over. Why? Why did she hate him? What had he done to turn eight years of friendship (what he'd thought was friendship) into this?

It was an answerless question, one that had circled his mind for months. It haunted him at night, ate at him every day. And the only way to beat it was to ignore it, to lock it up in a corner of his mind and leave it there to fester. Because it didn't matter what he'd done, whatever it was, there was no going back. Donna hated him, she went out of her way to hurt him each time they met, and the only solution — the only solution that made sense as he hurtled down the Parkway — was not to see her again. Just don't see her, don't give her another chance to twist that knife.

It was elegant in its simplicity, avoidance at its most basic. And it made sense; if he never saw her again, she could never look at him through those stranger's eyes and she could never make him feel like this again.

The fact that the thought of never seeing her again made him feel like he was dying inside was beside the point because-

Shit! The curve was too tight! He slammed on the breaks, the back end skidded out, and suddenly he was in a blind spin. Someone yelled — him? — and then a bone-crunching impact smashed him into darkness.


	2. Road Less Traveled, The

It was dark. It was the pitch-black, leaden-limbed darkness of the small hours, silent outside, even in this city.

But not silent inside. Inside there was a noise… An irritating trill. Donna buried her head deeper into her pillow and hoped it would go away. It did. Slowly her body began to relax back into the dreamscape, but then it started again. And again.

Blearily, she lifted her head and her foggy mind lazily identified the sound as her cell phone. Stumbling out of bed, her feet cold on the wooden floor, she followed the insistent ringing into the living room. Groggily, she cursed herself for not keeping her phone by her bed anymore. But this kind of call had been rare since she'd left Josh- The White House. She meant since she'd left the White House.

"Donna Moss," she croaked into the phone.

"Oh thank God!"

The urgent tone — and unfamiliar voice — roused her like a bucket of cold water. "C.J.?"

"I couldn't get hold of anyone on the Santos campaign, but AP have it. How is he?"

Blinking, disorientated, Donna sank onto the sofa. She was cold, her feet were freezing. "How's who? What's happened?" There was a long, strained pause. "C.J.?"

"I'm sorry," CJ said at last. "I just assumed- Josh was in an accident."

"Josh…?" It was all she could muster, all her brain could process. "What kind of accident?"

"A car accident. All AP have is that he was taken by ambulance to GW. I just assumed-"

"Is he okay?" No, it's critical. She felt sick…

"I don't know. All AP have is that he was taken to GW in an ambulance. I just- I'll try and get Matt Santos, I'll call you when I know-"

"No." She was on her feet, running to the bedroom. "No, I'm going down there. I'll call you from there. I'm just gonna-" Suddenly her throat was too tight to speak, and the only image in her mind was the way he'd stirred his coffee so hard it had started to spill.

Blinking back tears, she flung on whatever came to hand, grabbed her car keys and ran for the door. The journey was mercifully fast at two a.m., and unlike last time there were no secret service, no press, no one at all as she raced into the ER.

"Josh Lyman," she blurted to the duty nurse. "He was brought in- car accident…"

The nurse looked at her through narrowed eyes. "What time was he brought in? We haven't had anyone in since-"

"I don't know. I just found out. He was- There was a car accident. It was on the news. Josh Lyman. L.Y.M.A.N."

"Are you family? Visiting hours are-"

"No! I'm-"

Suddenly she saw a familiar figure stepping out of an elevator, young, pretty, dark hair. Stupid name. "Ronna!" Donna called, running after her. "Ronna, wait!"

The woman turned, her face pale and tired and showing no sign of recognition. "Yes?"

"Is he okay? What happened? Where is he?"

Ronna blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't- Do I know you?"

"Yeah, I'm… I'm Donna Moss."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm a… friend. I just heard. Is he- Oh God, is he okay or…?"

"He's okay," Ronna nodded, and Donna felt her knees start to shake with relief. "He's broken his elbow — they're going to put in some kind of pin, but they don't want to operate yet because he has a concussion."

"Concussion…?" She knew her voice sounded faint and pathetic, but she didn't care. She really didn't care. "Broken… Did you say elbow?"

"Yeah." Ronna frowned. "Are you okay, you look a little-"

"I'm fine," Donna smiled, fighting back tears. "I'm just- Bad memories." She cleared her throat and glanced at the elevator. "Where is he, I should-"

"You can't go up there. They just threw me out. They've given him morphine, so he's pretty out of it anyway."

"Right…" It all made perfect sense, except for the fact that she ached to see him — just to see with her own eyes that he was okay. "Last time we were allowed to…"

"You should come back tomorrow," Ronna said, taking a couple of steps toward the door. "I'm exhausted, so I'm gonna…" She nodded toward the exit.

"Yeah," Donna said. "Think I'll just…" She sat down on a plastic chair, not sure what else to do. Go home, she supposed. Call C.J. Josh was okay, there was no reason to stay, except that the thought of leaving made her queasy and she felt an overwhelming desire to be close.

Her eyes fixed aimlessly on Ronna, the only other person in the empty ER, as she walked wearily toward the exit. She was young, Donna thought, as young as she'd been on the first campaign. Naïve too, perhaps; working for a better world on a shoe-string budget with no hope of victory. It was enough to make her- All thought left her mind, everything was swamped by the staggering realisation that Ronna had Josh's backpack slung over her shoulder.

And it was that, more than anything else, that brought the truth home. He hadn't called her. Josh had been in an accident and he hadn't called her.

No one had called her.

***

Donna didn't bother going to bed once she made it back home. She was too wired to sleep anyway, and needed to be up in just a couple of hours. So instead she took a long shower, then curled up on the sofa with her schedule for the day. The morning briefing started at seven, after which she had a meeting with advance because the next day they were heading out to California. There was no way that meeting could be cancelled or postponed, so she figured she wouldn't be free to go see Josh until at least two. On the plus side, she was hoping he'd be out of surgery by then, and really there was no point in going earlier because she probably wouldn't be allowed to see him anyway.

And she wanted to see him. A lot. It was disconcerting how much she wanted to see him, given that she'd spent the past few months convincing herself that she didn't want or need him in her life.

But, she reasoned, she'd proven her point. She'd shown him, C.J. Cregg, and the world at large, that she could make it on her own. She'd proven that her life didn't revolve around Josh Lyman and so, perhaps, it was okay to admit that she… What? Needed him? Cared about him? Yeah…cared about him. She sat up a little straighter, as if trying on the idea for size. It fitted, and she liked how it felt. Of course she still cared about Josh — how could she not? And, even more surprisingly, she realised that she didn't care if C.J. thought that made her pathetic. She knew it didn't. She felt it…

It was a startling, energising revelation. She cared about Josh, with his quick smile, acerbic wit, and that aching vulnerability he hid so well most of the time. Donna smiled, feeling her heart begin to race. She cared about him and he needed her. He needed a friend and that's what she was, that's what the past six months had proven to her; she was his friend, not his lackey or his doormat, but his friend. And she didn't have to hide it, or run from it anymore. She was his friend and-

Great friend… The little voice was quiet and sly, dredging up memories she'd rather forget. Like the first time they'd met after she quit, the way he'd looked at her like she'd steamrollered his puppy. Or the way he'd seemed to crumple when her little jab about Will had punctured his ego. Or the way he never seemed comfortable in her presence, or-

Short-circuiting the memories, she reached for the remote, switched on CNN and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. She wasn't hungry, but if she didn't eat now she'd be falling over by eleven. She poured Cheerios into a bowl, grabbed the orange juice and 1 %, and headed back to the TV. She was just pouring milk into her bowl when she heard his name.

"…and Josh Lyman, former Deputy Chief of Staff, was pulled from his wrecked car on the Clara Barton Parkway late yesterday afternoon..."

Donna's stomach turned over at the sight of Josh's car, crumpled sideways into a tree. How many times had she ridden in that car with him?

"…Lyman, now running the campaign of Democratic hopeful, Matthew Santos, escaped with a broken arm and concussion. But police have confirmed that his car was travelling in excess of eighty miles per hour at the time of the accident and that they will be interviewing him later today. No one else was hurt in the incident. Meanwhile…"

The police? She hadn't even considered… Milk sloshed over the lip of the carton as it landed heavily on the coffee table. She'd been so focused on his injuries she hadn't even considered the consequences beyond that. But if the police were involved…? If he was charged with anything, it meant the end of his career. Santos couldn't keep him on, no one could touch him. Worse still, if he were convicted. She felt sick to her stomach.

Unable to sit still, unable to face breakfast, she paced to the far side of the room and back. How could he be so stupid? But he always drove too fast, she'd told him a hundred times. If he was edgy — and when wasn't he? — he'd put his foot down and growl at traffic. She'd told him so many times that this would happen if he didn't-

Oh, God, the police!

It was killing her, not being there. A year ago she'd have been the first one there and the last to leave. A year ago she'd have been telling the police that they couldn't interview someone with a concussion, and calling his lawyer, and making sure the nurses knew he was allergic to amoxicillin and-

Your choice, the quiet voice whispered. You didn't want to look after him anymore, did you?

She ignored it, because it had never been about this. It had never been personal.

Liar. It was always personal, that was the whole point. It was always too personal, and that's why you left.

Pushing the voice away, she headed into the bedroom to get ready for work. Her watch said it was six, which meant about eight more hours until she could get down to the hospital. Eight hours… It was ridiculous, but she just wanted to be there, to make sure he was okay and to-

To take care of him.

She smiled wryly at herself in the mirror. Despite everything, it seemed, she couldn't shake that instinct. And yet something was different, something felt different.

You used to be such a sweet, caring girl…

Her cold truth of her mom's rebuke settled like snow on her heart. When, Donna wondered, had she decided that looking after her friends was something shameful?

If the question had an answer, she didn't want to hear it. Not right now. So she pushed it out of her mind, went to work, and spent the day counting down the hours until she could visit him. Once she got there, once she was with him again, everything would be okay. She just knew it.

***

As it turned out, however, her meetings snarled up like rush-hour traffic. By the time she'd escaped her meeting with advance, it was gone three-thirty. She'd told Will where she was going, and he'd waved her off with a 'tell him he has to get better fast, so we can kick his ass at the convention'.

Donna doubted she'd pass on the message.

But her spirits were bright as she pulled into the hospital parking lot. Perhaps bright wasn't quite the right word, but she felt energised, full of nervous tension. Partly it was sleep deprivation and adrenalin, but mostly it was pure anticipation. She was going to see him, to see with her own eyes that he was okay. At last!

This time she had better luck with the duty nurse, found out his room number and made her way up to the third floor. She was halfway along the corridor when she slowed, spotting someone in uniform standing outside the room at the far end of the hall. Something squirmed uneasily in the pit of her belly…

Cautiously, she drew nearer and just then the door opened. Another policeman walked out, along with a young woman with the look of a lawyer about her and an older woman Donna instantly recognised.

It was Rachel Lyman — Josh's mother.

The two policemen said something to the lawyer, and then they headed toward Donna. The lawyer spoke briefly with Rachel before she followed them. Donna stood to one side, letting all three past.

Rachel had already turned back toward Josh's room and Donna had to hurry to catch her up. "Mrs. Lyman!" she called, and Rachel froze. Slowly she turned around, her angular face sharp and chiselled.

"Donna," she said in a restrained voice. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"You're…? I'm here to see Josh," Donna said with a suddenly nervous smile. She'd never seen Rachel so cold. "How is he? They wouldn't let me in last night because-"

"He'll be fine," Rachel said, turning away. "Thank you for your concern."

It sounded like a dismissal, but Donna assumed she was reading her wrong. She'd always gotten on so well with Rachel Lyman; this had to be because she was stressed-out, tired and upset. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Donna asked, falling into step next to her. "Do you need anything? Do you need somewhere to stay or-?"

"No. Thank you." Rachel slowed as she approached the door to Josh's room. It was ajar, but all Donna could see was the end of the bed. She could hardly wait to get inside, to be with him, and even this little delay chaffed.

"Is he cranky?" she asked, her gaze darting between Rachel and the door. "Or maybe they have him on-"

Rachel moved, placing herself between Donna and the room. "This is…this is a little awkward for me, Donna. But I just don't think it would be a good idea if you saw him right now."

She wasn't entirely sure she'd heard correctly. "What do you…? Is he…? If he's drowsy or-"

"To be blunt, Donna, I don't- He'll be going down to surgery in a couple of hours and the police, I think, will want to talk to you about-" She broke off, her voice trembling, either with tears or anger, Donna couldn't tell. "I think it would be best if you left now."

"But…" From inside the room she could hear the quiet murmur of voices and thought she could pick out Josh's in there somewhere, sounding sleepy and quiet and- Oh God. "I just want to see him," she blurted, feeling tears standing in her eyes and not daring to blink lest they fall. "Can't I just-?"

"I'm sorry." Rachel's face softened slightly. "Josh- He needs friends and family right now."

"But I'm his-" Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard to keep it from breaking completely. "Will you…" she whispered. "Will you tell him I came by?"

Rachel nodded, her face more saddened than anything else. After a moment she said, "He's my son, Donna. When he's hurt, I'm hurt. That's just the way it is."

With that she turned away, slipped into Josh's room and closed the door firmly behind her.

In her whole life, Donna had never felt so hurt.

***

Rachel Lyman leaned her back against the door, watched the nurse fussing over her son, and tried to repress the nagging memories of the last time she'd seen him in this place. Her brief encounter with Donna Moss did little to help, although perhaps it pointed out the differences between the two events.

The first time he'd been fighting for his life, and Donna had fought along side him the whole way. This time he was nursing a broken arm and a bruised ego — not to mention the gash half hidden beneath his hair. And Donna had shown up late, and apparently oblivious to her part in this sorry little mess.

Rachel took a deep breath, which drew her son's attention. His arm was propped up at an angle beside him, and he winced as he moved; they'd had to let the morphine wear off before the police talked to him, and now, she noted, the nurse was upping the dosage again. Josh's eyes were beginning to droop.

"Am I going to jail…?"

His idea of a joke. "I doubt it," she said. "Kristina thinks you'll get a warning and a fine."

He nodded, but didn't answer. He was hiding something, trying to protect her, just like he always did. "Will it cost you your job?" she asked, pulling a chair closer and sitting down next to him.

His eyes were drifting shut. "Probably…" She knew, if he'd been more lucid, he'd have denied it.

With a sigh, she reached out and took his hand. Strong and warm and alive. "Better your job than your life, Joshua."

"I guess…"

After a pause, and in a deliberately casual tone, she said, "You'll never guess who I ran into in the hall."

"Fred Astaire…?"

"Donna Moss."

His eyes opened, blinked, and struggled to focus on her. "Donna…? She's here?"

He looked so hopeful, so disbelieving, that it broke her heart. "She wanted me to tell you she stopped by." He was blinking, as if trying to clear his head. "Did you want me to…? I told her now wasn't a good time, but if you want me to fetch her I could-" 

"No…" Hope was fading from his face, like winter sunshine hidden behind the clouds. His eyes closed again. "No, it's probably just- She's probably just here to…laugh…or something…"

Rachel squeezed his hand. "She seemed worried, Josh. It seemed as if she really cared about-"

"She doesn't," he murmured sleepily. "That's not why she's here… Tell her, tell her…I…" But he was asleep before he could finish his sentence.

Rachel didn't move, just sat there and held his hand while the nurse told her they'd be back in a couple of hours to give him the pre-meds for the surgery. She listened dutifully, said what needed to be said, and then sat in silence with her sleeping son and tried her best not to blame Donna Moss for hurting him so much that he'd wrapped his car around a tree at eighty miles per hour on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

***

When he's hurt, I'm hurt.

Rachel Lyman's words spun through Donna's mind, endlessly repeating. When he's hurt, I'm hurt. Her face had been cold, her usually friendly eyes sharp and distant. When he's hurt, I'm hurt.

It was as if she blamed Donna, as if it was somehow her fault that Josh had driven like an idiot and lost a fight with a tree. It didn't make any sense. She felt strangely disorientated, as if she'd slipped into a strange dream world where nothing was as it should be. Josh had been in an accident, but he hadn't called her. Rachel was cold and distant and seemed to be blaming her. Why would she blame her? She hadn't-

"Donnatella Moss?"

She looked up from the plastic chair on which she was perched, and saw a tall police officer standing in front of her. "Yes?"

"I'm Officer Brookes, I'm going to need to take a statement from you, regarding Joshua Lyman."

"Oh." It was all she could muster as she got to her feet. "Here? Or do we need to…?"

"Here's fine, if it's okay with you, ma'am. It won't take long."

"Okay." She had her coat in her hands, clutching it against herself as she watched the officer pull out a pad of paper and a pencil.

"Could you tell me the last time you saw Mr. Lyman?"

"It was- Yesterday afternoon, we were having coffee in Georgetown. Well, we weren't. I was there with my mom, but we bumped into him there."

Officer Brookes nodded. "How would you describe the tone of that conversation?"

"The tone…?" Her mind seemed to be working in slow motion, not quite grasping what anyone was telling her. Must be the lack of sleep, she thought absently.

"How would you describe your conversation with Mr. Lyman — its tone?"

She shook her head. "It was just… He was talking to my mom about DC. Uh, he asked if we'd been to the Smithsonian. Oh, and we talked a little about our work at the White House — what we used to do there…"

Brookes looked up from his pad, eyeing her carefully. "Would you describe the conversation as good natured?"

"Yes…"

"Did you argue?"

Her heart was racing unaccountably fast. "No, we didn't- It wasn't like that. Did Josh say-"

"I'm just interested in your view, ma'am," Brookes told her. After a beat he said, "Did you leave the café together?"

"No, Josh left first he-" Made an excuse and left. "He left first."

"How would you describe his mood when he left?"

Hurt. She could hear her mother saying it as clearly as if she were standing right behind her. Hurt and upset, Donna. "It was- I guess he was a little… He might have been a little upset."

Brookes looked up again. "About what?"

She actually felt sick, her head slightly dizzy. Should have eaten lunch… "Something I said… It was just a joke, but he- He didn't say anything, but I think he might have, maybe, taken it seriously."

"What was the joke about?"

Donna snorted a bitter laugh. "Why would you need to know-?"

"I'm trying to ascertain the facts, Ms. Moss. What was the joke about?"

She didn't answer, just stared at him as the import of his words sank in. Trying to ascertain the facts… Was he comparing her statement with Josh's? Had he mentioned her stupid joke to them? Was that why- Oh God, was that why he'd been driving so fast? She sat down heavily on the chair, one hand pressed over her mouth, trying to breathe.

When he's hurt, I'm hurt.

"Ms. Moss?" Officer Brookes looked more irritated than concerned. "Can you answer the question?"

"I'm sorry, I… What was the question?"

"The joke. What was the joke?"

Her mouth was sandpaper dry, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I just… I just implied… Last year, I was caught up in a…bombing, in Gaza. I implied- I didn't mean it! It was… I implied that it was his fault, that I blamed him for sending me there."

Brookes nodded and scribbled something onto his pad. "And that was the last conversation you had with Mr. Lyman?"

She nodded. "I haven't seen him since…"

With a snap, the officer closed his pad and tucked it into a pocket. "Okay, thank you, I-"

"Is that what Josh said?" she asked abruptly. "Is that why he was driving so fast? Did he say that's what made him drive so fast?"

Brookes shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't discuss that. Thank you for your time, Ms. Moss." And with a nod he walked away to join his colleague by the hospital door. After a brief consultation, they left.

Donna didn't move; she wasn't sure her legs would support her weight anyway. It all made a sickening, inevitable kind of sense. Rachel's anger, the questions the police officer was asking...

They all blamed her.

They blamed her for hurting Josh, which just wasn't fair. She'd been the victim in all this. For seven long years, she'd been the victim! He'd exploited her, belittled her, taken her for granted and now Rachel was blaming her for making him-

You always had a smart mouth, Donna. I've never seen you use it to hurt someone before.

Her own mother's voice threw cold water over her righteous indignation and sparked a guilty memory at the flash of triumph she felt every time she scored a point at Josh's expense. But it wasn't that she wanted to hurt him, it was just- She'd made a joke. So what? She'd learned from the master of the put-down and-

The sound of footsteps behind her drew Donna's attention, and she saw Rachel Lyman walking smartly toward the exit. Unable to stop herself, Donna darted after her.

"Mrs Lyman!" she called, catching her up just before she reached the doors. "Wait."

Rachel turned, her face no warmer than before. "You're still here, I thought you-"

"I was giving a statement to the police," Donna said, chin lifting. "Mrs. Lyman, I know… I know that you think this is my fault, and I just want to say that I'm sorry about what happened to Josh but I don't think it's fair to blame me because it was just a joke and he knew it and-"

Rachel held up a hand to stop her. "I'm sorry, Donna, this isn't really a good time."

"I just want you to know that I didn't- This isn't my fault."

"I have to go," Rachel said, turning away. "Good night."

"You have to believe me!" Donna insisted. "This isn't fair! It was a joke, it was-"

"It was a joke?" Rachel spun around, her wiry frame rigid with anger. "Which bit was a joke, Donna?"

Taken aback, Donna was momentarily lost for words.

"Did you mean the comment about Josh sending you to Gaza? Or did you mean walking out on him without so much as a thank you or a goodbye?"

"I-" Donna swallowed hard, clinging to her hard-won personal confidence with grim determination. "I don't know what Josh has told you, Rachel, but it's more complicated than you think. I didn't- It's not like Josh didn't have any warning, I'd been asking for more responsibility for…years, really. He never… I'm sorry, because he's your son and he's been hurt, but I have to tell you the truth. He abused my loyalty, he held me back instead of helping me to progress. I should have left that job years ago, and everyone knew it."

Rachel folded her arms across her thin chest. "Was that his fault, Donna?"

She blinked. "Was…what?"

"Was that his fault?" she repeated. "Was it Josh's fault that you didn't find yourself a better job? Was it his job to act as your career advisor?"

"Of course not, but- He lied to me, Rachel. I'm sorry to be blunt, but it's true. He sent me to Gaza on a make-work scheme, just to fob me off. And he-"

"He phoned me the night it happened," Rachel said, no hint of a thaw in her face. "I've never heard him sound so…flat. So bewildered. It broke my heart."

Donna sighed, remembering her mother's words; he'd cried for her. Josh Lyman had cried for her, and it defused her anger with a sweeter pain. "I know," she said quietly. "I do know how the whole Gaza thing affected him, and I-"

"I wasn't talking about Gaza," Rachel said quickly. "I was talking about the day you left."

"Oh…"

"I'm sure you had your reasons, Donna. I know Josh better than anyone, I know how difficult he can be at times, but… He has a soft heart. He feels things more than he'd ever let you know, and he trusted you. He relied on you. You meant- He doesn't understand why you left, or why you seem to dislike him so much."

"I don't!" The denial burst out unchecked. "That's not true. I do like him, I-"

Love him? The thought momentarily stung her into silence.

"Well, maybe you do…" Rachel sighed. "I don't know, Donna. All I know is that you hurt him and when Josh is hurt he retreats into his shell. That's why…" She trailed off, suddenly awkward.

But it was too late, Donna had already guessed. "That's why he doesn't want to see me."

Rachel didn't deny it. After a painful pause she said, "You should go home. You look tired."

"I never meant it to be like this," Donna said bitterly. "I thought we could be grown-ups. I thought we could still be friends. I'm sorry that he doesn't want that."

Rachel didn't answer, but her face was hard as stone as Donna turned and walked out of the hospital, determined to keep her head held high.


	3. Road Less Traveled, The

She didn't go back to the hospital again. There didn't seem to be any point; Josh didn't want to see her, and that seemed to be the final nail in the coffin of their friendship. So she buried herself in her work and kept a watchful eye on the news. Sure enough, three days later, Josh went home amid a flurry of beltway speculation about whether or not Santos should fire him. Josh had been charged with dangerous driving and fined accordingly; Santos was holding firm, but Russell was making hay and the papers were full of nothing else but 'character issues'.

Donna imagined Josh chewing the furniture in frustration, but secretly she hoped Santos would stick to his guns. Josh might be an inconsiderate, arrogant egomaniac, but he didn't deserve to lose his job over this. Besides, Santos had to know that without Josh his campaign was over. If it had ever stood a chance at all, which she doubted.

And if, deep down, she felt a little flutter of regret — a little niggling guilt about her own, small, role in the incident — she ignored it. Because, unlike Rachel Lyman, she knew the truth and she wasn't blinded by a mother's love for her son.

Josh might act hurt, but it was only his pride she'd wounded. She'd proven him wrong on every level, proven that she didn't need him, proven that he'd failed to recognise her potential, proven what she could become without him dragging her down. And that had to hurt. But beyond the damaged ego, she doubted Josh had felt any real pain. Because if he had, if he'd cared about their friendship, he'd have called her and begged her to come back. If he'd cared about her, he'd have brought her roses and turned his apartment into Tahiti.

He'd done none of those things, and he never would. She'd been kidding herself for years about the strength of his feelings for her, but C.J. had shone a bright light on the truth that night in her office and, despite her little relapse the night of the accident, Donna was determined not to backslide. If Josh didn't want to see her, fine. If he wanted to play the martyr, that was fine too. It only made him look pathetic.

Still, she thought he should keep his job. People had done worse and stayed in office, and Josh — she grudgingly admitted — was the best at what he did. It would be a loss to the Democratic party if his talent was thrown on the scrap heap.

And so she kept her eye on the news, kept her head down, and tried not to think about him at all.

***

"I'm not resigning."

Josh eyed Matt Santos over the desk in his Congressional office and shifted his arm in the sling. It hurt, but not as much as he'd expected, given that he was now pinned together like Meccano.

Santos shook his head. "This is ridiculous…"

"I'm not resigning," Josh insisted.

"You can't expect me to-"

"You have to fire me."

"I'm not firing you Josh. It's ridiculous. So, you were speeding? Pretty damn stupid, but-"

"You have to fire me," Josh repeated, keeping his voice as even as possible. "The papers are full of character crap, no one's writing about anything else, and it won't go away until you fire me. You have to fire me, make a statement about personal responsibility, and demonstrate that you're a leader. You have no choice."

Santos was on his feet, pacing to the other side of the office and back. "Josh, without you this campaign is over anyway. You know that. Everyone knows that. I can't fire you, because if I do-"

"Here," Josh said, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. "Two names. Get them both on board and you'll be better off with me gone."

"And if I can't?"

Josh just shook his head. "Then it's over. But if I stay, it's over anyway. You have to move past this, you've got no choice." He paused, staring down at his scuffed shoes, the words in his mouth tasting bitter. "I'm sorry. It was- I've really screwed things up for you." He allowed himself a brief, sour smile. "You should fire me for that alone."

"It was a mistake, Josh. We all make them."

"Yeah, well, this one has consequences that you can't ignore, and I'm sorry for that. But I'm not lying to you about this. If you don't fire me, right now, this campaign is over."

Santos fingered the envelope in his hands. "Will I get them?"

"One, maybe. The other… I don't know. Try. It'll help that- It'll help that I'm not here."

Before the Congressman could argue further, Josh turned and left. Where he was going, he actually had no idea. Just away. Away from everything, for a while. For good, perhaps. He really didn't know.

***

"Donna?" Will poked his head into her office. "We need to make a statement."

"About?"

"Santos fired Josh. We need to comment… it's a matter for the Santos campaign, blah, blah, but throw in something about being surprised it took him this long to decide. Something about equivocating leadership."

Donna found herself staring. "He fired Josh? For a speeding ticket?"

"It's politics, and two weeks away from the National Convention. You've got ten minutes."

"You don't think…" She got to her feet, uneasy with herself. "You don't think we should, I don't know, stick together on this?"

Will laughed. "We're not together, Donna. They're the opposition. This is a gift, we have to use it." He paused, softening slightly. "I know it's Josh, but he'd do the same."

"I don't know…"

"Trust me," Will said, "he'd do the same. He'd have no choice, and neither do we." After a moment, and in a slightly awkward voice, he said, "Look, if this is difficult because of your personal feelings I can get someone else to-"

"No," she objected instantly. "It's fine. I don't-" She felt herself flush, and cursed silently. Her stupid feelings had held her back long enough; she wasn't going to let them do it again. Not ever. "It's not personal, it's politics."

Josh had done this to himself, and it wasn't her job — or her responsibility — to protect him from his own mistakes. Her head clearer and her determination fixed, she headed out to talk to the press like the professional operative she'd become.

***

It was strange, Josh thought, how unlike home your home could feel. Perhaps it was because he'd hardly been there in six months, or perhaps it was because he'd never really lived there at all. Slept here, occasionally eaten there, but never really lived there. Not for years, anyway.

His happiest memories — if that was the right word — of this apartment were the months he'd been with Amy. She'd filled the place with her extraordinary personality, filled him too with an energy that he'd never recaptured since their relationship had broken down into political squabbling. One of life's regrets, he thought as he worked on his second beer. The only other time he'd spent much time at home was after the shooting, and that wasn't a time he liked to remember. Donna had been there then, of course, looking after him…

He felt a ridiculous surge of loss and swallowed down the lump in his throat with the dregs of his beer. He wondered if that was when she'd begun to find him irritating, or if that had come later. Either way, he didn't want to think about those days.

But he couldn't stop thinking about Donna. She'd been at the hospital once, his mom had said, but she hadn't come back. He wondered why she'd been there at all, but didn't dare think about it too closely. He suspected the truth would hurt.

He was looking forward to getting away, from her most of all. He knew it was cowardly, that he was running instead of confronting, but the pain of her betrayal was just too…deep. If he didn't run, he thought he might go crazy — he could feel his anger boiling inside, just beneath the surface, and he wanted to scream, rage against the unfairness of it all.

But he didn't. Instead he opened a third beer, switched on the news, and there she was…

"…is a matter for the Santos campaign, but the real question is, why did it take Congressman Santos four days to come to this decision? Joshua Lyman broke the law, recklessly endangered the lives of others, and it took Matt Santos four days to realise that this kind of behaviour was unacceptable in his campaign manager. The Vice President agrees with the Congressman's final decision, but if it had been up to Bob Russell the decision would have been made on day one."

It was perfect. It was exactly what she should have said, exactly the message he'd have told her to give. Josh raised his beer in salutation. "Et tu, Brute?"

***

It was past midnight, and Donna was brushing her teeth when her buzzer sounded — long and loud. Nervously, she went to the window and peered out. A cab was pulling away into the rainy night, but she couldn't see far enough to make out who was at her door. Whoever it was, they were insistent. Or, perhaps, they were just leaning on the buzzer. Hoping that they'd got the wrong apartment, Donna pressed the intercom. "Hello?"

"I have to ask you a question."

It was, unmistakably, Josh. "It's midnight," she told him.

"I know. It's just one question, and I don't- Please."

That was a first. "Make it quick," she said, hiding her sudden nerves behind what passed for banter these days.

He didn't answer as she buzzed him in, but shortly after there was a rap at her door. She opened it cautiously. His hair was damp from the rain, his broken arm in a sling, his face was pale and he was swaying on his feet. "You're drunk," she said immediately, trying to cover the intense sweep of emotion she felt at actually seeing him again.

Josh nodded. "Yes I am."

With a sigh, she opened the door and let him in. "If you throw up on my new sofa…"

"I won't." He glanced around, but made no move to take off his coat. "This is nice. Nice apartment, feels…nice."

"Hmmm," she agreed, resisting the urge to take his coat from his shoulders and sit him down. "It's the middle of the night, Josh. What do you want?"

"A question," he said, pacing away from her. "Just have to know, before I go. I just-" He stopped and turned to face her, his features unusually open. "What did I do wrong? I mean- I thought we, I thought we were something, and I don't really get what I did that was so…bad."

There was a curl of pain, right in the centre of her stomach, and she rubbed a hand across her face, trying to ignore the hurt in his eyes. "Josh, it's late, maybe we should discuss this when-"

"No! I want to know now, just tell me. Just tell me what it was. Did I- Did I forget your birthday or-"

"Forget my birthday?" She couldn't help laughing. "Is that what you- You think I'm that childish?"

"No, I… Then, what?"

"You know, the fact that you don't know is part of it…!" She sighed, and tried for patience. "You never saw me, Josh. I was your dogsbody, but I stayed in that job believing that you were on my side, that you were helping me, that you had my best interests at heart, but it was all a lie. You sold me a bill of goods, Josh. You were abusing my loyalty."

He stared at her. "Abusing your loyalty?"

"Look at what I've achieved without you, Josh! Doesn't that tell you something about how much you held me back?"

"You think I was holding you back? I didn't… I didn't realise you wanted to, you know, go forward. I thought you were happy with me, I-"

"No you didn't!" she objected. "I told you a hundred times that I wanted to do more, and you never — never — gave me anything. You didn't want to, you wanted to keep me under your thumb so I'd be there to fetch and carry for you."

"I gave you what I could, as my assistant. But I couldn't- Did you think I could just give you a better job because I liked you? That's not how it works."

"Really?" she countered. "What about Charlie? When he graduated, the President ordered him to hand his résumé around to all the senior staff! He insisted he got a better job, the President said he wouldn't let Charlie waste his life carrying his coat around for him, but you, you-"

"What?" He was angry now; she could see it glitter in his eyes, banishing the hurt. "I what? I didn't force you to pass out your résumé? You know what? Maybe if you'd spent every damn night for five years taking classes at Georgetown I'd have had some clue that your career was important to you! I'm sorry, Donna, but just whining at me to get you a better job doesn't cut it as a career move!"

"Whining?" she managed to choke past her rage. "I wasn't whining. I was- I should have known, Mr. Harvard and Yale, that I wasn't good enough for you. I should have-"

"That's not what I mean, and you-"

"You knew what I could do! You saw it every day. Will saw it, and he didn't even work with me. He saw it and he used it and he didn't care that I didn't have a stupid degree!"

"I didn't care either! But maybe if your career had seemed more important than finding a date I'd have-"

"You bastard!" she spat. "You sanctimonious bastard! You know that you held me back, you know that you could have pushed me ahead if you'd wanted to and-"

"I couldn't! It would have looked like I- Like you were- Getting you a job was not my job! "

"So what?" she yelled. "You couldn't do it as a favour to a friend?"

"That's exactly why I couldn't do it! If I'd-"

"You couldn't say 'Oh, look, Donna's wasted in this job, I bet she'd be great at… whatever'? You couldn't do that, Josh? You couldn't, for once in your self-absorbed little life, act like a friend instead of the egotistical jerk-off that you are!"

He started, as if she'd struck him, and just stared at her for a long moment. Then he abruptly turned away and ran a hand over his face. In a quiet voice she barely recognised he said, "I always… I'm sorry. " He cleared his throat. "I always tried to be a good friend to you, Donna. I tried to look out for you. I'm sorry if I wasn't good enough, or if I didn't-" He turned back around, staring at his feet and not at her. "It's late, I shouldn't have- Thank you, for telling me. I'm sorry I wasn't…what you needed. And if I hurt your career, then I'm…I'm sorry about that too. Goodnight."

"Josh…"

"Goodnight, Donna." His hand was on the door, but he turned around as he pulled it open and for an instant met her gaze. "I just want to say…good luck. I know you'll do amazing things."

"Don't…" But he was already gone, the door was already closed, and Donna found herself frozen to the spot. It was only then, as she heard the door downstairs clank shut, that she realised she hadn't said a word about the fact that he'd just lost his job — his career.

She didn't know whether to be proud of herself, or to weep with shame.

***

The night lasted forever, and yet dawn came too soon as Donna hauled herself out of bed after a restless sleep. Her argument with Josh had kept her awake, replaying in her mind over and over. His arrogance had been unforgivable — maybe if your career had seemed more important than finding a date — and she refused to contemplate the notion that he might have had a point about Charlie and his degree. It had made no difference to Will, and it shouldn't have to Josh.

Irritation seemed to be in her blood this morning, pumping around her body as fast as the memories of last night's row spun through her mind. And somewhere at its centre, like the quiet eye of the storm, sat something else — an ache, a deep aching loss.

I just want to say…good luck. I know you'll do amazing things.

And there had been a gentleness in his voice she'd forgotten about. She'd seen in him then a different man, one who she'd pushed out of her mind. One who, ridiculously, she wanted to pull into her arms and comfort. And yet it was the same man who'd accused her of caring more about her love life than her career, and she couldn't reconcile those two halves.

Trying to put the whole thing behind her, Donna set the coffee brewing and checked her phone for messages. There were two. One from Will, asking her to come in for a pre-meeting meeting after lunch, and one from a number she didn't recognise. Half-hoping and half-dreading it was going to be Josh, she listened to the message.

It wasn't Josh. It was Matt Santos, asking her if she'd stop by his campaign office to meet with him first thing this morning. Astonished, and not a little intrigued, Donna sat and stared at the phone for a full five minutes before the aroma of coffee brought her back to reality. Matt Santos wanted to see her. Why on Earth…?

With a dozen unfocused hopes and dreads running through her mind, Donna got dressed — taking a little extra care, so as to present as professional an image as possible. She couldn't help wondering if she'd bump into Josh — he'd been fired, but that didn't mean he might not be there. The thing was, if she did bump into him, she'd need to be prepared. She'd need to know how to react, what to say, how not to look like a total idiot. Friendly professionalism, she decided, was the best approach. He'd wished her luck, he'd said she'd do amazing things — as far as Josh went, that was almost an apology.

Still feeling unsettled, she headed out and arrived at Matt Santos's office just before eight. It was smaller, by far, than Bob Russell's outfit, but Donna instantly picked up on the atmosphere that had always been missing from the Russell campaign. There was an energy here, a buzz that reminded her of other campaigns…

"Donna!" To her surprise, Matt Santos himself greeted her as she stepped into the small office. "Thanks for coming…" He looked over at a couple of his staffers. "We'll need the back office for a couple of minutes," he said, leading Donna toward a small room that was rapidly being vacated.

When they were alone he shut the door, smiled, and moved around to sit behind his desk. "Take a seat," he said. "I guess you're wondering why you're here."

"Well, yes, I confess-"

"I had to fire Josh yesterday," Santos said, his smile fading. "I know you know that, because I saw you giving the Vice President's response."

Donna forced herself not to wince, but she could feel a heat coming into her cheeks. "My job is to-"

"I know," he said, waving away her concern. "Don't worry, I'm not here to haul you over the coals for calling into question my ability to make quick decisions."

She smiled, nervously. "Okay."

"I didn't want to fire Josh. I wasn't going to. But… Well, he made me — he said, if I didn't, the campaign would be over and I think he was right."

Donna nodded, trying to focus on the Congressman's words and not get lost in the idea of Josh falling on his sword for the sake of the campaign. It was typical of him and-

You can't, for once in your self-absorbed little life, act like a friend instead of the egotistical jerk-off that you are! Oh God…had she really said that?

"Donna?"

She started. "Yes?"

"Thought I'd lost you there for a moment…"

"Sorry, I was just… I know what I said in the statement, but I was- On a personal note, I was sorry to hear about Josh. He's a… He's a good man."

"I know," Santos sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Believe me, this is exactly the last thing I wanted to do. But… I trust Josh, and if he said I had to fire him, well..." After a slight pause, he carried on. "Before he left he handed me an envelope containing two names. He told me that if I could get both of them on board, we'd stand a chance."

She didn't know what to say to that, and all that escaped was, "Oh…"

"One of those names was Leo McGarry. The other was yours."

Donna just stared at him. "Me?"

Santos glanced down at a piece of paper on his desk and began to read. "She'll make your life easier, knows everything about anyone worth knowing, has fantastic interpersonal skills, and is especially good with the media. She's got a smart political mind and looks great on TV."

Again, the heat flared into her cheeks. "That's… Josh said that?"

"He's never steered me wrong, Donna. Now, I understand that you might not want to jump ship this late in the game. Especially not to come aboard the Titanic, however-"

"I'll do it," she heard herself say. "I'll come and work for you."

He seemed surprised. "You know I can't pay as much as-"

"Doesn't matter. This is… Part of me feels like I should have been here all along."

Santos eyed her carefully for a moment, but didn't comment as he held out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Donna Moss. I hope Leo McGarry is as easy to convince."

She smiled as she shook his hand. "He will be. He'll do it for Josh." Then, standing to leave, she said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure…"

"That note… Did Josh give it to you this morning?"

"No, it was yesterday. Why?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, blotting out their argument until later. She'd think about it later, apologise later. "Thank you. And thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here, Congressman. I'll do my very best for you."

"Can't ask for more than that."

When Donna was back on the street, heading over to break the news to Will, the first thing she did was pull out her cell and call Josh. His phone wasn't switched on, so she tried his home number. No answer, but she left a message: "Josh, it's me. I just had a meeting with Santos and I- Look, what I said last night? I really need to talk to you." And then, for good measure, she sent him a quick text to the same effect.

A week later, when she'd had no reply to any of her messages, she started to worry.


	4. Road Less Traveled, The

The evening sunshine was casting mellow shadows as Donna pulled up outside Josh's apartment and sat for ten minutes staring up at his window. She hadn't seen his car outside, but then she supposed it was either being fixed or scrapped. And there were no lights on, but why would there be on a sunny evening?

Her stomach was doing somersaults just being here; she'd driven past twice before she'd had the courage to actually park. She had no idea what she'd say to him, no idea where to begin. All she really wanted was to make sure he was okay, that he hadn't- That he was okay, that was all that mattered.

Blowing out a nervous breath, she climbed out of her car and trotted up the steps to his building two at a time.

"Hey, Donna," George the concierge called, as soon as she entered the lobby. "Long time, no see."

"Hey," she smiled. "How've you been?"

"Good, good. You?"

"Yeah, good. I — uh… Do you know if Josh is in?"

George blinked. "Mr Lyman? He's not living here right now."

"He's not…" Her heart took a nose dive into the choppy waters of her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"It was pretty sudden. He's still got the lease, but he said he was gonna be away for a while. I've got a forwarding address, if you're interested."

"Yeah…" He was gone? How could he be gone?

George rummaged under the concierge's desk, flicked through a small note book, then turned it around and showed her. Donna didn't need to write the address down; it was Josh's mother's. "Is that where he's staying?" she asked doubtfully.

"I guess. He said he was going home for a while."

"Ah, okay…" She glanced up the stairs toward his apartment, suddenly gripped by an insistent desire to see for herself — to just step into his world for a moment. "Would you mind if I…? I have a key, and I left a, uh, sweater there a couple of months" — years — "ago."

George hesitated, but only for a moment. "Sure, why not. Just don't steal the silverware."

"You can frisk me on the way out."

The man blushed a little and laughed. "Careful what you promise, Donna."

She flashed him a grin, one she didn't really feel, and all but bolted up the stairs to Josh's apartment. When she approached the door she found herself shaking. She fumbled the key into the lock and half expected him to emerge, startled, from the kitchen at her arrival.

But his apartment was empty and silent, the sound of the door closing echoing loudly in her ears. The place was in semi-chaos and looked as if Josh had walked out ten minutes ago. A musty aroma touched everything like a layer of dust, and she traced it to the coffee machine and the week — or more — old filter left inside. Wrinkling her nose, she lifted it out and threw it into the trash. Big mistake; opening the trash can released a whole new range of scents you'd never find in Bloomingdale's.

It was typical.

Leaving the kitchen, she wandered into the living room. A line of empty beer bottles sat on the coffee table, and over on the table by the window she could see the light flashing on his answering machine. Mostly her messages, she supposed. Her heart sank, however, when she saw his cell phone sitting next to the answering machine. He hadn't got any of her messages, and she felt a flutter of panic when she realised he was completely un-contactable.

No, not completely. She could always call Rachel, she could reach him there.

Taking a steadying breath, she walked toward his bedroom.

Sunlight cut across the unmade bed, and her eye was instantly drawn to two things. The first was the pink GAP sweatshirt she'd left here back in another life, the second was a haphazard pile of 'stuff' in the middle of his bed. There was an empty box laying on its side on the floor, and it looked as if he'd tipped the content out in order to sort through it. At once curious and hesitant, she drew closer — and then stopped dead. There, on the top of the pile, was a picture of herself. Sinking down on the edge of the bed, Donna picked it up. It had been taken a couple of years ago, she remembered. Someone's birthday. Toby's? They'd all gone out and someone had brought a camera. Not Josh, he'd never even think of a camera. But someone had — C.J., probably. Donna remembered the photos being passed around the office, but didn't remember Josh keeping any. There'd been another nice one too; they'd been squashed into a booth, Josh had put his arm around her shoulders, more to get it out of the way than anything else, and they'd been laughing together over something long forgotten. Donna remembered the picture vividly; he'd had a beautiful smile, all affection and dimples. She'd wanted to keep it, but hadn't dared ask.

Perhaps Josh had…? She rummaged lightly through the pile, but couldn't see it. There were a couple more pictures though, both of her, as well as every birthday card and Christmas card she'd sent him in seven years. He'd even kept the Valentine's card she'd sent one year, in which she'd signed herself 'Your secret admirer in need of a raise'. Then there were newspaper clippings, mostly about Gaza, a couple showing her photograph. And one — she smiled at the sight of it — from her High School newspaper: 'Former pupil in the White House'. She hadn't known he'd kept that. She hadn't known he'd kept any of this.

There were other things too — some kind of trophies from High School, photos of people she didn't know, although she could occasionally pick out Josh's young face in a crowd. University, she supposed — the hallowed halls of Harvard and Yale. He was smiling in all the photos, young and full of life, and she tried to remember the last time he'd smiled at her.

She missed his smiles. Especially that small, personal smile that had always seemed to be just for her. It had been rare, but always worth the wait. She sighed and dropped the mementos back onto the bed.

It was painful, she realised, to see herself among the things he'd left behind.

***

The next three weeks passed in a frenetic wave of activity, punctured by molasses-slow moments of reflection. It would strike her out of the blue as she darted between the bus and the hotel, or when she picked up her cell, or smelled coffee with too much sugar — Josh was gone. He was just…gone. Every time she turned around she expected to hear him — or hear about him — but there was nothing but a painful emptiness.

Occasionally she'd see his scrawled notes on a document and the sight of his oh-so-familiar handwriting would send little darts of pain right into the centre of her chest. At first she'd thought it strange that she should feel his absence so keenly now, given that they'd been apart for months already, but then it occurred to her that he'd never really been gone before. She'd always known where he was and their separation — for want of a better word — had been on her terms. She'd walked away, but never far enough that she lost sight of him. They'd been in an elliptical orbit, occasionally coming together, only to be thrown apart again, but always coming back. Always coming back. This time he was just gone, and the space he left behind was vast.

Sometimes a small voice whispered that perhaps Josh had felt this same vague sense of panic after she'd left. She wondered if that's what she'd seen on his face during their first meeting up in New Hampshire. Perhaps he'd felt exactly this alone, perhaps he hadn't realised that she'd never really gone, that she'd never escaped his gravitational pull.

Perhaps that was why he hadn't called her after the accident.

The thought made her uncomfortable inside her own skin, made her unhappy with her reflection in the mirror; it was at odds with her memory of events. The situation had always seemed so clear to her. She'd left her job to prove a point, to forge her own identity beyond the reach of his long shadow, and, if she was honest with herself, to earn his respect. She wanted him to see her, to really see what she could achieve in her own right. And she'd known that he'd be pissed, that his pride would be wounded, and that Mr. Passive-Aggressive would rear his irritatingly cute head. But she'd never imagined that he'd believe he was alone.

Now, sitting in her office and feeling his absence like the lack of a thick coat in the dead of winter, she began to reassess. She began, for the first time since C.J. had dissected her life without anaesthetic, to see things from his perspective.

Josh didn't leave people. He didn't leave people, which meant that when people left him he felt it intensely. She'd known that when she'd quit, but she'd told herself she was leaving the job, not him. She'd told herself that, if he'd needed her, she'd have been right there.

She'd never imagined he wouldn't understand that.

And now he was gone, really gone, and she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him that, if he'd called, she wouldn't have stopped for red lights. She couldn't-

"Donna?"

She glanced up, disorientated for a moment. "Yeah? Sorry I was…"

Leo fixed her with a sharp, knowing look, but all he said was, "I want you to head down and meet up with the campaign in Florida. The President's going to be making a statement on Cuba, and I want the Congressman on board with it from the start. You can read the papers on the way, and I'll need you to make several statements to the press throughout tomorrow and the next day." He paused, possibly taking in her goldfish impersonation. "Think you can handle that?"

Nodding, she said, "Yes. Yes I do." But in truth she wanted to cry. She wanted to weep because suddenly she knew why it all felt so wrong; it should have been Josh.

It should have been Josh teaching her to fly.

***

What Donna hadn't realised at the time, but had struck her five minutes later, was that she was going to Florida. Florida, where Rachel Lyman lived and, according to George the concierge, Josh was hiding out. On the flight down she forced herself to read the briefings on the President's statement on Cuba, but a little corner of her mind was turning over a different problem.

She'd be in Miami, just a couple of hours drive from Josh's mother's house. She could call in, make sure he was okay, and thank him for recommending her for the job with Santos. If she phoned he'd avoid the call, but if she just turned up he couldn't refuse to talk to her. Perhaps she could explain some things, try to build some bridges. And, at the very least, she could see him. Just…see him again.

And so, after she'd checked in at the hotel, briefed the Congressman and drafted her statement for the morning, she found herself in a rental car en route to Cocoa Beach. It was late, gone eleven by the time she pulled into the right street, and she hoped that Rachel wouldn't mind her dropping by so late. But Josh would still be up, he never slept before one, and Donna didn't have to worry about Rachel being frightened by such a late caller if Josh was there.

None of which made it any easier to actually climb out of the car once she'd parked in front of Rachel's immaculate house. The memory of her last conversation — confrontation, more accurately — with Josh was fresh in her mind. She cringed a little at the memory, but he'd asked for the truth and she'd given it to him — a little stronger, perhaps, than was necessary. But she'd been sorely provoked…

Maybe if your career had seemed more important than finding a date!

Jackass. How dare he say that, then turn around and slap her name on the desk in front of Matt Santos? It was typical of him, of the way he'd blow hot and cold and leave her dizzy in his wake. How was she supposed to know what he thought, or felt, when he acted like that? Did he really respect her, or had he given Santos her name to prove some kind of a point? Did he really think she was an airhead chick more concerned with her next date than her next job, or had that just been a lame justification of the way he'd held her back all those years? She didn't know. She just didn't know…

Curls of tension crept up her spine, stiffening her neck, and she rolled her shoulders back in an effort to relax. This was what always happened. When they were apart her feelings for him softened, she'd remember all the good times they'd shared, she'd miss his smiles and their jokes and how they'd eat breakfast together at his desk and- And then as soon as he was close this simmering anger broke the surface again, and all she could remember was how he'd humiliated her. How he'd exploited her feelings in the cruellest of ways, letting her kid herself that she was happy in her job because it was the White House, when all along-

It's not the White House, it's him.

And here she was, a year and a lifetime later, and she was still in orbit around Josh Lyman. It was pathetic, truly pathetic. She shouldn't be here, stalking him like some kind of crazed fan. She should leave, she should just drive away. Josh was out of her life, wasn't that what she wanted? Wasn't that exactly what C.J. had told her to do? To get him out of her life?

She frowned, her memory of that part of the conversation more hazy. C.J. had said something about that, about her doing anything that didn't involve Josh Lyman. And she was pretty damn sure that if C.J. saw her here she'd roll her eyes and shake her head and know that nothing had changed.

And what really made Donna mad, what really twisted like a knot of barbed wire in her chest, was the fact that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She'd left him, she'd worked against him, risen beyond her wildest expectations, and none of it made any difference. None of it. Because even if she drove away now, she'd just keep thinking about him, wondering if he was okay, missing him. Missing him with an intensity she'd never anticipated, missing him every time she saw a bagel, or an ad for a Mets game, or the Post, or a backpack, or curly hair, or a position paper, or Kung-Po chicken, or the sun rise and the rain fall. Everything reminded her of Josh.

And then she'd remember how he'd held her hand that Christmas Eve in the ER, how he'd not looked at her once but had just clutched her hand like his life depended on it. Or how he'd sat with her in the cold and waited for Cliff Calley to read her stupid diary. Or how he'd been the only one to figure out she'd lied about Jack Reece's statement to the press. Or how he'd wished her luck as he'd walked out her door, with such a hurt look in his eyes that she'd wanted to break open her heart and pour out the truth at his feet if only she hadn't been frozen solid by anger, humiliation, and hard won pride.

And she was still frozen solid. She was pulled so hard in two opposing directions that she couldn't move a muscle. To love him was a humiliation; it had almost wrecked her career, had made her a laughing stock in front of C.J. Cregg — her idol, in so many ways. But to walk away from him was impossible, because her stupid, stupid heart wouldn't let go. However hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself from loving this man. No matter that he didn't feel the same, no matter that she hated herself for her weakness. No matter that she hated him for making a fool of her. None of it mattered, because she loved him and she couldn't stop and it was ruining her life.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

Donna started, staring in dismay at the sight of Rachel Lyman standing at her front door peering out into the night with her phone in hand. To call the police, perhaps. Kicking herself, Donna opened the car door and stepped out. She could hardly drive away now; she didn't want to add terrorising Josh's mother to her list of indiscretions. "Mrs Lyman?" she called out. "It's me, Donna Moss, I'm…" What? Just sitting outside your house for the fun of it. Yeah, great…

"Donna?" Rachel looked at once relieved and confused. "What are you doing here? Has-" She took half a step forward. "Has something happened?"

"No," Donna assured her, walking up the drive to her house. "I'm so sorry to bother you this late at night, I wasn't sure whether to knock or… I was in town. The campaign's in town, and I just wanted to- I just thought I'd drop in to say hi to Josh."

She was closer now, and could make out the confusion on Rachel's narrow face. Her eyes, Donna hoped, were less cold than during their last encounter, but it was dark and she wasn't sure exactly what she was seeing. Rachel stepped out onto her wide porch, fixing Donna with an intent look. "He's not here, Donna."

Not here? Or refusing to see her? Another wave of humiliation washed up at the idea; she was beyond pathetic. "Okay," she said, smiling down at her toes in an attempt not to cry, "I understand, I just-"

"No," Rachel said, taking another step closer. "I'm not sure you do, Donna. Josh isn't here. I haven't seen him since I left DC three weeks ago."

She looked up sharply. "He's not- I thought he was staying with you? George said he he'd gone home."

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know who George is, but he's wrong. Josh isn't here."

Panic fluttered at the edges of her mind. He wasn't there… He wasn't anywhere! He was just gone. Oh God, he was just utterly gone and she- Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to ask the obvious question, her fingernails digging deep into her palms as she awaited the answer. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yes," said Rachel.

Thank God… A relieved smile broke out, and she didn't bother to hide it. "Is he… Is he okay?"

Rachel didn't answer. "I'm a little confused about your being here, Donna," she said at last.

"You think…" Donna paused, the words somehow clogging in her throat. "Despite what you might think — what Josh might have told you — I just- I wanted to make sure he was okay. I just needed to know that."

Rachel studied her again, and then with a smile painfully like her son's she said, "Why don't you come in and have a coffee, Donna? We were always friends."

"I don't want to intrude or-"

"You're not," Rachel insisted, her smile turning rueful. "And we can talk about my son. It's every mother's favourite topic of conversation, you know."

Donna smiled a little at that, although the thought of discussing Josh with his mother, and more particularly, her screwed up feelings for him, was enough to send her running for the hills. But cowardice had never been one of Donna Moss's faults, and so she forced herself to say thank you and followed Rachel into the warmly lit house.

***

Rachel paused as she poured the coffee, watching the young woman sitting nervously at her kitchen table. Donna looked tired, Rachel thought, just as Josh always did. And there was a pinched look to her face that spoke of unhappiness. She was beautiful despite it all, the kind of long limbed beauty about which Rachel had once dreamed. It was strange, she thought, that a woman so beautiful could also seem so sad.

But then, she reflected, she thought the same about her son.

"You have a lovely home," Donna said as Rachel set a mug down on the table in front of her.

"Thank you." She nodded toward the living room. "Let's go in there, it's a little more comfortable."

Settling herself in her favourite chair, Rachel watched as Donna cast around and eventually perched on the edge of the old wooden rocking chair next to the rarely lit fireplace. Rachel tried not to draw any conclusions from the fact that it was where Josh always sat on his infrequent visits, and the chair he'd sprawled across as a boy.

"So," Donna said, her hands wrapped around her coffee as if she were cold on this warm summer night. "You were going to tell me how Josh is doing?"

Rachel wasn't entirely sure that she was. Yet. "He's himself, if that's what you're worrying about," she said, taking a sip of her own drink. "I think he just wanted to get away from it all for a while, to have some time to get things in perspective."

Donna nodded as if she understood, but here was a crease in her brow that belied the gesture. "But he's… He's not brooding? I mean- I know Josh, I've seen him- The last time something like this happened he was yelling at the Capitol Building in the middle of the night."

"Was he?" Not that she was entirely surprised; Josh's passions were always kept on a hair trigger.

Donna frowned down into her coffee and blew at the steam curling from its surface. "He shouldn't be alone."

She seemed to mean it, which did much to soften the anger Rachel felt in her heart. But it did little to ease her confusion. "I have to ask you, Donna… You left him, why do you care if he's alone or not?"

Donna laughed, but it was as far from amusement as a wail. "I got a new job," she said, the words falling leaden from her lips, like rote. "I didn't leave him, I got a new job. I don't understand why people think-"

"Not people."

Donna looked up.

"Just Josh," Rachel said. "He thinks you left him. And I don't believe…" She hesitated, trying to read the frown on Donna's face. "You didn't really think he'd see it any other way, did you? Knowing him as you do."

Her lips pressed together and she was staring down into her coffee again. "I-" She smiled, but didn't look happy. "I honestly don't know what I thought. I just had to get away."

"From Josh?"

Donna nodded, but didn't look up.

"Why, Donna? I thought you… Forgive me, but you always seemed so fond of him when we spoke; I thought you were more than just colleagues. I thought you were friends. I thought you cared-"

"Maybe I did," Donna said sharply, "but you can't stay in a job just because you…care about your boss. That's… that's just pathetic."

There was a long silence. The only movement in the room was Donna rocking slightly to and fro on the edge of the chair, still staring into mug clasped in her hands. Rachel wasn't sure what to say; she could see enough in Donna's face to question Josh's insistence that she hated him. In fact, Rachel was beginning to suspect that Josh was either utterly inept at reading people or was deliberately blinding himself to the truth about this woman. It was hardly her place to intervene, and yet Donna was sitting here all but crying into her coffee, while Josh was off nursing his broken heart and bruised ego. And if, at seventy-three, you couldn't stick your beak in where it wasn't strictly wanted, then what was the point of living so long? Fixing her eye carefully on the young woman, Rachel said, "Are you in love with Josh?"

Donna didn't move, didn't react at all. And then a small, self-deprecating smile curved her lips. Funny, Rachel noted, how she smiled when she was hurting. "Rachel…"

"It's okay," she said, "I won't tell him, if he doesn't know."

Donna shook her head and stood up. "I really should be going, we've got an early morning-"

"Is that why you left him?" Rachel pressed.

Again, the half-smile and the shake of the head. Donna was looking around urgently for somewhere to leave her coffee and settled on the mantelpiece. "I should really-" Her words stumbled to a halt, her eyes arrested by the photograph next to her mug. It was a few years old now, but a nice picture of Josh that a friend had taken when they'd been out sailing one summer, before she'd sold the old house and moved to Florida. It was rare for him to look so relaxed these days, and Rachel loved the picture for that alone.

Donna hadn't moved, but then, as if she couldn't help herself, her hand drifted from the coffee cup to the photo and picked it up. That illusory smile still lurked on her lips, but her eyes were full of a sweet sadness she couldn't hide.

Rachel felt her heart filling fit to burst. "Life can be complicated."

"Yes," Donna agreed, her eyes still fixed on the photo. "Yes it can."

"Josh thinks you hate him."

She flinched, but nodded. "I don't."

"You should tell him that."

Her gaze lifted to Rachel. "I can't find him."

Rachel smiled, pushing herself to her feet. "George was right about one thing, Donna. Josh has gone home."

Understanding dawned instantly. "He's in Westport?"

"You didn't hear it from me."

Donna smiled at that, the first smile that wasn't employed to hide something else. "Thank you," she said, carefully putting the photo back; Rachel had seen her treat Josh with as much care once upon a time.

She very much hoped that she would see it again.

***

Westport, Connecticut might as well have been on the moon for all the chance Donna had of going there in the foreseeable future. If she'd thought the campaign for the nomination was hard, the real campaign was on a different scale entirely. She was living out of a suitcase, flying from one issue to another, living or dying by the polls and the message, without an evening off, let alone a free weekend.

They were all burning the candle at both ends, and the tension was beginning to show. Even Leo's phlegmatic outlook was taking a dent; he seemed more harassed than she'd ever seen him, even at the White House. And if she'd thought carefully about why that might be, perhaps it wouldn't have been such a surprise when he threw down his pen in the middle of the morning meeting and growled, "We need someone else."

All eyes fixed on him, some nervous, some confused. Lou, Donna thought, looked slightly insulted and it was she who said, "Someone like who?"

"You know who," Leo said with a sigh.

"Yeah, well," Lou snorted, "short of putting out an APB…"

Donna went very still when she realised who they were talking about. And it made total sense; Leo was missing his right-hand man, his go-to guy.

"Yeah," Leo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, so what's next?"

There was a moment's silence into which Donna heard herself say, "Are you talking about Josh?"

Leo fixed her with a sharp look. "You know where he is?"

No hiding anything from Leo McGarry, but that wasn't really the issue. "You can't hire him after the Congressman fired him. Can you?"

"Maybe. This is a different campaign, and he wouldn't be campaign manager. A consultant, maybe. Someone to- Are you in touch with him, Donna?"

She flushed a little at the unspoken implication. "No. No, but I know where he is."

Leo paused, considering, then said, "Okay. Okay, let's get on with this…" He flung a quick look at Donna. "We'll discuss Josh later."

Later turned out to be the following week, the day after Donna got back from five days in Texas. She had two days at the office, before heading out to meet the campaign back in California. Her desk was almost buried under work, which was why at nearly midnight she was still going strong and trying to weigh the benefits of pro-plus over another cup of coffee when Leo appeared in her doorway.

"So," he said, "Josh is holed up, licking his wounds, in Westport."

"I don't have an address or anything," Donna said, "but his mom said-"

"You spoke to Rachel?"

"Yeah, when we were in Florida a few weeks ago. I'm sure if you asked her she'd give you a contact number, or something."

Leo nodded. "Yeah. I'm not gonna call him."

The flurry of disappointment was more surprising than it should have been. "You're not?"

Leo shook his head. "No. You're going to go get him."

For a stunned moment she couldn't say anything. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're on a flight tomorrow."

"No… You don't understand, that's really not a good idea. I'm the last person you should send. Send Lou or-"

"Josh hates Lou. The feeling's mutual, I think."

"Yeah, well," she laughed, "Josh isn't too fond of me right now, so you-"

"Come on Donna…"

"We've hardly spoken since I left my job."

"Why do you think he's out there at all?"

She blinked. "What?"

"What do you think he's doing, camped out in Westport, Connecticut?"

"He was fired, his career-"

"He wasn't fired," Leo countered. "He asked to be fired."

"Because if he hadn't the press would have-"

"Gotten over it, probably."

She stared at him, confused for a moment. "The Congressman told me-"

"Donna…" Leo stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, he was half smiling but Donna wasn't sure if it was amusement or irritation. "Sometimes, you kids… I need Josh back here, I don't need him sulking in Westport. Go fetch him."

Shaking her head, she got to her feet, inexplicably nervous. "No, I'm sorry, you don't understand. Josh and I-"

"The day you left the White House, Josh got on a plane and flew to Houston. Did you know that?"

She didn't. "Houston?"

"To ask Congressman Santos to run." He paused, letting it sink in. "The day you left, Donna. What does that tell you?"

She laughed nervously, staring down at her desk. "That he didn't like the temp?"

"Donna…"

"He doesn't want to see me," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the desk so that Leo wouldn't see the tears forming. "He wouldn't see me at the hospital, he's left his cell in his apartment…" She forced out another smile. "So, sending me down there would-"

"Just go talk to him Donna."

She shook her head. "I don't know where he is."

"Yeah," Leo sighed. She heard a soft rustle and then he slid a piece of paper over the desk toward her. "I do."

Westport Inn, 1595 Post Road East.

Donna looked up. "That's where he's staying?"

"And where you're staying too. Your flight leaves at ten thirty tomorrow."

She picked up the note and turned it over in her fingers. "How did you find him?"

Leo smiled. "It's what mothers do for old friends of their husbands."


	5. Road Less Traveled, The

Westport, Connecticut was exactly what Donna had imagined. Full of well-kept family homes, dripping wealth and self-satisfaction. Affluence was everywhere, from the Suburbans on the street to the manicured lawns. Life was good here, and it showed.

She smiled to herself, imagining Josh growing up among all this privileged comfort, and wondered where he'd gotten the drive to go out and try to help the rest of the country achieve as much. It would be easy, in a place like this, to put up the barriers and try to keep it all for yourself. It had always been one of the things she'd most admired about Josh; he'd grown up with the good life, but somehow that had only fuelled a fundamental sense of egalitarianism. It said something about him, she figured.

But her smile soon faded as the cab pulled up outside the Westport Inn, her stomach tightening into knots. She'd spent most of the night and the entire flight up here trying to work out what to say to him, but she had nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had to know she was coming, which helped. Although she was half afraid — or half hoping — that he might be gone by the time she arrived. Either way, she was about to find out.

The hotel was small and quaint, fitting in with the general ambiance of the town. She doubted it was as old as it looked, but the faux-colonial thing was done with enough subtlety to be charming. There was a small bar, all dark wood and deep, comfortable chairs over to her right, and a set of wooden stairs leading up toward the rooms. It looked like the perfect romantic weekend getaway, ironically. The stark conformity of a Marriott might have been more appropriate for her mission…

Once she'd checked in, Donna found herself standing in a large, beautifully decorated room and wondering what to do next. If Josh was still staying here she figured all she needed to do was sit in the bar and eventually she'd spot him either leaving or arriving. But she didn't want to, not yet. Her head wasn't together enough, she had too many voices talking inside her mind and she needed some space. A little light and air to gather her thoughts.

So she quickly changed into her jeans, threw on the thick sweater she'd packed, and headed out into the cold fall air. It really was beautiful; even in the town you could glimpse the fall foliage and the tang of the sea air was everywhere. As she strolled, she tried to imagine growing up here and felt, for the first time since she'd known Josh, a little stab of envy. He'd had all this, and most likely a beautiful house and- And a sister who'd died, leaving him a legacy of survivor's guilt. No amount of wealth could compensate for that.

It occurred to her that guilt might be at the root of Josh's incredible drive and ambition. Perhaps the only way he could justify surviving was to climb as high and as fast as possible? To prove he was worthy of having survived. It made sense and-

Donna stopped dead in the middle of the street, struck by a mini-epiphany. She could identify with him, she realised, she could identify with that sense of 'why me?'. That sense of not wanting to waste a moment of your life, of feeling that anything less than achieving your maximum potential was an insult to those who'd died — the better, smarter, more valuable people who'd died.

Oh God… Was that what she was doing?

Her heart was racing, her breathing short and shallow as she forced herself to start moving again. Oblivious to where she walked, her mind was turned utterly inward.

Was that why she'd walked out on Josh to go work for Bob Russell? Because Admiral Fitzwallace had died, and she — a glorified secretary with a crush on her boss — had survived? Was that why she'd done it so violently and with so much rage? Because C.J. had laid bare the foolishness at the centre of her life, and Fitzwallace had died in her place?

A surge of emotion brought thick tears to her throat. She swallowed them hard and kept walking. It was an aimless walk now, as she went over every little detail of the past year, trying to understand herself at last. Her mom had said she'd grown hard, and she'd felt hard. She'd felt cold inside, angry with everyone, but mostly with herself. Angry because she'd idled away the best years of her life, staying in a job she loved a lot less than her boss. Angry because Josh was right — she hadn't put herself forward for anything, she hadn't finished her degree, she hadn't applied for any other jobs. She'd done nothing to further her career, because that would have meant leaving him and that was the last thing she'd wanted to do. So instead she'd twisted herself up into a knot of resentment and thrown her anger at Josh.

But what had she really wanted? A job with more responsibility, where she could shine and grow, and yet a job where she still worked with him every single day? There was no such job. C.J. had been right, she'd missed a hundred opportunities outside the White House — and within — because she hadn't wanted to leave Josh.

And then she'd turned around and blamed him for that, gotten herself so mad at him that when she'd eventually had the courage to take control of her life, she'd left him in the cruellest way possible. Because she was angry and hurting and wanted him to hurt too.

She stopped again, finding herself on the edge of a picturesque little marina, and stared out over the sparkling water and bobbing sail boats. It seemed appropriate; this moment of self-revelation felt as bright as the sunshine. And for the first time in too long, she knew what she had to say to him. There was fault on both sides, and she could admit that now because she understood herself at last.

Maybe he had held her back, maybe she'd let him. But the anger, that deep, gnawing anger, wasn't for Josh. It was the anger of a survivor struggling to find her way in a world turned upside down, it was the anger of someone lashing out at those closest to her. She understood that now, and she needed him to understand it too.

Rachel was right, she had to tell him the truth. They had to discuss it, out in the open and like adults. She almost laughed at the idea, but there was a first time for everything.

Right?

***

It was late afternoon before she got back to the hotel and the cold had penetrated to the bone. Her toes were numb, her fingers ached even inside her thick leather gloves, and she was beginning to dream of hot chocolate with whipped cream and perhaps a brandy chaser. Just to ward off the chill.

Her plan was to get back to her room, shower and then head down to the bar and hope to bump into Josh over dinner. If he didn't show up, she'd do the same at breakfast. If that failed, she'd have to indulge in some skulduggery to discover his room number. But first things first, she thought as she pushed through the doors into the hotel. Shower, hot chocolate, and a brandy.

The girl at reception smiled politely, got her room key with minimal fuss and asked Donna if she'd found the town without a problem. Donna was in the middle of replying when a burst of cold air from the opening door made her shiver. She sank a little deeper into her coat, thought again about the imminent hot shower, and reached out for the room key. But the girl handed it over absently, her attention suddenly fixed on the newcomer. "Did you have a nice afternoon, sir?"

Perhaps it was something about the way the girl was beaming that caused Donna to turn her head and look, or perhaps it was some instinctive sense of his presence, but either way she found herself staring at Joshua Lyman himself. Her heart thudded loudly, and was strangely overwhelmed by the sight of him. How long had it been? Nine weeks since she'd last seen him, on that horrible night in her apartment. And here he was, large as life and radiating waves of cold air from his thick jacket.

"It was good," he was saying to the girl, his smile easy and more relaxed than Donna had seen in months. "I hadn't been up there for years and…" His voice trailed off, he was obviously aware of someone staring at him and glanced over.

His shocked expression would have been comical, if it hadn't been so sharply painful. For a long moment he just stared at her, and all Donna could think was that he looked good. His face was flushed with the cold air, his eyes were bright and there wasn't even a hint of a dark circle beneath them. He looked well. He looked rested, strong. Relaxed. And then his mouth twitched into a brief, incredulous smile and he said, "Hi."

"Hi," she managed in return.

He laughed slightly, but she recognised it as his edgy laugh. "What are you doing here?"

Right to the point, of course. Donna flicked a look at the receptionist who was assiduously busying herself well within earshot. "Leo sent me," Donna said. "To bring you back."

Josh just stared at her, eyebrows climbing. "He sent you?"

"I-" She winced at the unexpected pain his incredulity brought. "Can we discuss this somewhere else?"

Josh looked away, picked up his key from the counter and dropped it into his pocket. "Who says I want to discuss it at all?"

She followed him toward the stairs as he made his way through the lobby. "Leo wants you back, Josh. He needs you."

"He needs me?"

Was it her imagination, or had there been a slight emphasis on the 'he'? "The…campaign needs you, Josh. The Congressman needs you."

Josh took the stairs two at a time. "The Congressman fired me."

"You told him to."

"Because…that's what you do with people who break the law and recklessly endanger the lives of others."

Donna stopped halfway up the stairs. "When I said that? It was my job…"

He slowed, eventually stopping a couple of feet above her, and turned around. "Yeah…"

She sighed. "Can we please just talk about this? Like adults?"

"Like adults? We are adults, so by definition however we talk about this is like adults, so-"

"Meet me in the bar in half an hour," she said, starting to climb the stairs again.

He watched her walk past him, and she thought again how vital he looked. So different from the man she'd last seen, and that suddenly reminded her… She stopped at the top of the stairs. "How's your arm?"

"Mended," he said, giving it a little wiggle. "Amazing how fast you can heal, isn't it?"

With that he strode up the rest of the stairs and sauntered off in the opposite direction. Donna sighed and headed for her room, wondering if this afternoon's epiphany had come nine weeks too late.

***

To her surprise, Josh was already in the bar when Donna got back down there half an hour later. Showered and changed, she felt refreshed, yet couldn't quell the restless butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Josh was sitting in the far corner of the room, ensconced at one end of a comfortable-looking sofa with his nose buried in — of all things — a book. Donna couldn't remember ever seeing him reading a book; if it turned out to be a novel she'd know it wasn't the real Josh Lyman after all. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and crossed the room. As she drew nearer, Josh looked up. There was a hint of let's-get-this-over-with in his eyes that sent her butterflies into a tailspin, but she resolutely ignored them and forced a smile. He barely returned it as he slipped a bookmark between the pages and set his book down on the low table in front of him.

Donna stopped with her hand on the back of the armchair opposite. "I'm going to sit here," she announced.

"Okay."

Perching on the edge of the chair, she cast around for something to say and her eyes fell on his book: Long Walk to Freedom. "I don't think I've ever seen you read anything that wasn't a briefing book," she said.

"It's good." Josh replied, still lounged back in the sofa. But she thought she could detect a little tension in his complete stillness, as if his composed exterior might shatter if he moved. "It's pretty inspiring stuff."

"It is."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "You've read it?"

"Yes. Yes, I have." She felt her lips twist into a wry smile. "See? I didn't spend every evening looking for a hot date."

Josh's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah… Look, about that. I shouldn't have said-"

"It's fine. It was- We both said some things…"

"Yeah."

Silence fell, as uncomfortable as it always was these days. Eventually, just to end the awkward moment, she said, "You look…well."

His answering stare was utterly indecipherable. "Thanks." He didn't, she noted, return the compliment. In fact his attention had wandered to some point over her right shoulder.

It was time, she decided, to get down to business. "Look…Leo thinks-"

"Hey!" a bright and breezy voice called from behind her. "Sorry I'm late, the meeting ran on about a half-hour longer than was productive and I couldn't make Mark Swanson shut up." To Donna's utter astonishment an effervescent ball of chatter barrelled past her to swoop down and kiss Josh warmly on the lips, before collapsing next to him on the sofa. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah," he smiled, looping an arm around the slim shoulders of the woman, one hand toying with the ends of her brunette curls. "I called the restaurant and they'll hold the table."

"Oh, great! I've been dreaming of spaghetti carbonara all day!"

Donna was frozen with shock. There was a nauseous sensation right at the back of her throat, as if something alive was trying to climb up and out of her gut. All she could do was stare and hope that the floor would open and swallow her whole.

At that moment Josh glanced over at her, and there was a gleam in his eye that looked like victory. Heat rushed to her face, the pain intolerable, and in the split second before she dropped her head to stare at her hands Donna thought she saw something else in his eyes. It could have been regret, but was probably disdain. "Hannah, this is Donna Moss, she's a…uh…" He cleared his throat. "We used to work together at the White House."

Hannah glanced over, her dark eyes widening slightly as she noticed Donna. Then she smiled, a warm and friendly smile, and reached out a hand. "Hey Donna, nice to meet you. I'm Hannah Weiss."

Somehow Donna managed to smile, to hold out her hand and shake Hannah's. She was pretty, Donna thought. Slightly older than herself, closer to Josh's age, but the few lines on her face looked like they came from too much smiling rather than ageing; she had one of those wide mouths that seemed awkward when it wasn't smiling.

"Are you here on vacation?" Hannah was asking.

"Ah…no, actually. I'm here to see Josh- I mean, I was sent here, by my boss, to see Josh."

Hannah nodded as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Right. Is your boss in the White House?"

"She works for Matt Santos," Josh said, his gaze just shy of Donna's.

"Wow!" Hannah seemed genuinely impressed. "On the campaign? How exciting!"

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "It is. It really is."

"So how did you get involved with that? I've always wanted-" She laughed suddenly, a wide open laugh that was impossibly attractive. "Sorry! I sound like such a geek. I just find the whole thing so fascinating, you know, and especially for a woman. That must have been hard, right?"

"Oh…yeah," Donna nodded. She felt like she was walking blind through a minefield. "Well, you know, I had some, uh, help…along the way."

She sensed Josh shift in his seat, rather than saw him. "We should probably be going," he said to Hannah.

Hannah glanced at him, then back at Donna. "Have you eaten?"

"Ah-"

"We're gonna grab dinner at this great Italian place. It's not far." She looked over at Josh again. "That's okay with you, right?"

Hannah didn't seem to notice the 'hell no!' expression in Josh's eye, but to Donna it was as clear as if he'd spoken out loud. "Sure," he said, the word barely audible through his gritted teeth.

"I- Thank you," Donna said, and realised she meant it. "I think I'll probably just turn in, it's been a long day."

"Really?" Hannah looked disappointed. "That's a shame, I'd love to talk more about what you do."

Donna laughed, and hoped it sounded less bitter than it felt. "Josh can tell you much more than I can, I was just a secretary-"

"You weren't," Josh said. "You weren't just a secretary."

"I basically answered the phones," she said, forcing another smile. "So…"

Jaw tight, Josh's smile was small and brittle as he gazed down at his hands with a little shake of his head. Into the silence, Hannah said, "Is that what you do now?"

"No. I'm… Actually I'm the spokesperson for the Santos campaign."

Eyes wide, Hannah smiled again. "That's impressive. Wow…you know, I'd love for you to come and talk to my ninth graders. Especially the girls. I teach poli-sci at Staples, and it's so hard to get girls interested." She chuckled. "I was like the only girl taking poli-sci at high school, remember Josh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling. "I remember."

She looped her arm affectionately through his. "Josh was top of the class — of course — and I used to copy his homework!"

Donna forced another smile. "So you…knew each other at high school?"

"Oh yeah." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Josh was a bit of a dork back then, but he's grown up very nicely."

"Okay, okay…" Josh was on his feet, his smile somewhere between awkward and panicked. "Let's get going before you bring out a year book or something."

Hannah laughed and reached for her purse. "Now you mention it…" But she was getting to her feet, turning to smile at Josh with so much affection that Donna felt her heart dissolve and trickle out through the soles of her shoes. As Hannah slipped her arm around his waist, she smiled at Donna, "It was nice to meet you. Maybe we can all have lunch tomorrow or something? I'd really love to hear about the campaign and everything."

Donna nodded woodenly. "That would be…yeah, I'll have to check my schedule." Ugh! Pathetic.

Josh said nothing, just cast her a serious parting look before he turned and ushered Hannah toward the door, one hand at the small of her back.

It was only then Donna realised he'd left his book behind.

***

The logical thing to have done would have been to take his book to reception and hand it in. But, for some reason, Donna found herself carrying it up to her room, sitting cross legged on the bed, and flicking through the pages. Her eyes glossed over the text, her mind too preoccupied with what had happened in the bar to take anything in, but just holding the book gave her a strange sense of comfort.

Comfort… Part of her rebelled at the idea, hated herself for needing it. But the other half was tired of fighting it, of pretending her feelings weren't what they'd been for so long, and she couldn't muster the energy to deny the truth. The sight of him with the bubbly Hannah Weiss made her sick with envy, because Hannah had a part of Josh that Donna would never have. She doubted she even had his friendship any more, and any potential beyond that was long gone.

She'd driven it away, broken it in her struggle to assert herself. Perhaps it had been inevitable, but increasingly she was wondering if she couldn't have moved on in a less destructive way. If she couldn't have kept their friendship intact, couldn't have made it clear that she'd still be there for him when he needed her.

But those were could haves now, and Donna made a point of never dwelling on what might have been. The book in her hand was weighty and solid, and felt like her last link to him.

She stopped in her random flicking through the pages, smiling to herself as she realised he'd scrawled something in the margin. She couldn't read what he'd written, but half a paragraph was underlined. On the next page there was more, and throughout the book there were little notes and underlinings. Only Josh, she thought, would annotate a book he was reading for pleasure. She ran her fingers over the writing, as if she could feel something of him in it, and then moved on until she reached the page where he'd stopped reading.

Her heart stuttered as she opened it and his bookmark fell out into her lap. With trembling fingers she reached down and picked up the photograph, recognising it instantly as the one she hadn't found in his apartment; the two of them, laughing together, his arm around her shoulders. She still loved the photo, loved their easy familiarity and missed it like oxygen. But that wasn't what stopped her heart. Neither was it the fact that he'd kept the picture at all. What made her fingers turn ice cold and her cheeks flush hot was the fact that the picture had been ripped into pieces, and then carefully taped back together.

She could see him doing it, see his fingers tearing the photo apart. She could imagine him staring at the fragments in anger, and then regret. She could imagine him fishing them out of the trash and taping the photo back together with almost as much anger as he'd ripped it apart. And she was shaken — really shaken — that he'd ever been that angry with her. When, she wondered, had it happened? After she left? After her statement to the press when he'd been fired? Or after one of their brittle encounters on the road?

With a sigh, she traced a finger over the tape and turned the photo over. On the back, in a black pen that wrote over the tape, Josh had scrawled 'The good old days'.

Her stomach flipped over painfully and she dropped the photo onto the bed. It landed with the picture showing and as Donna stared down at their laughing faces she understood, for the first time in her life, that you really don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.


	6. Road Less Traveled, The

Habit, born of half a lifetime in professional politics, had Josh awake and out of bed early. He'd never been the sort to enjoy dozing; once he was awake, he needed to be doing something. Anything. Sleep was, he thought, a fundamentally boring necessity of life.

Not that he had a lot to do right now, but his body clock didn't seem to know that. Which was why he found himself standing at the floor to ceiling windows, gazing out over the hotel garden and toward the ocean. There was an on-shore breeze, he could tell by the way the low grey clouds were scudding across the blue sky. His Dad would have told him rain was on the way; his Dad had always watched the sky like some kind of Melvillesque fisherman, apparently oblivious to the idiosyncrasy of such a pursuit in a New York litigator.

But Josh never watched the sky, his attention was always fixed downward. Nose to the grindstone, ear to the ground. Always working harder than the next guy, always climbing one rung higher. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he wondered what was at the top of the ladder. It was an awkward question, because in his experience the only thing at the top of the ladder was another ladder. High school, Harvard, law school, legislative director in the House, Floor director in the Senate, Deputy Chief of Staff in the White House, campaign manager for Matt Santos… Always another ladder to climb, and to what end? He didn't even have time to admire the view. He didn't even know if there was a view.

With a sigh he turned away from the window, his gaze coming to rest on Hannah still sleeping in his bed. In the thin morning light her face looked pale against her dark curls, and it struck him that perhaps that was the view. Perhaps there really was nothing at the top of the ladder unless you carried it up with you. And perhaps that's what he'd been doing wrong all these years; he'd been climbing alone.

But now he wasn't alone, and he wasn't climbing. He was just…enjoying the view. It felt good, he realised. It felt comforting, like coming in from the cold on a dark night. Outside he could still hear the storm raging, but right here he was out of the wind and enjoying the peace. For now.

He hadn't forgotten that Donna was here, with an offer from Leo, trying to pull him back into the maelstrom. And there was a large part of him that wanted to go; he was rested, his mind was sharper than it had been in months, and he still craved the buzz of the race. But these past couple of months had given him a glimpse of something else, of a sorely neglected side of his life, and it made him hesitate.

Did he really want to return to a world where your closest friends would betray you for political advantage or a career opportunity? It was a cliché, but was there really more to life than ambition? The thought had crossed his mind before, but it was only now, as he watched Hannah sleep, that it lingered for more than a moment. In the few weeks since they'd bumped into each other again he'd come to know her well; it wasn't difficult, because she was an open book. There was no artifice about her, no double-talk. Hannah was exactly what she appeared to be — a smart school teacher with a broad smile and an affectionate heart. She taught at one of the best schools in the country, she knew everyone in the entire state, as far as Josh could tell, she loved her job and felt no need to prove anything to anyone. She was content, and her happiness was contagious.

She was, in short, the exact opposite to the ball-busting beltway type he'd always dated. And he liked that about her. He liked it a lot, and wondered if that wasn't what his life was missing these days. Someone to ground him, to anchor him to the world that existed outside DC. Someone to make him laugh, to take care of him — to know what he needed even when he had no idea himelf. Someone who'd just be there for him.

And maybe that was Hannah? Maybe she would-

A polite knock at the door announced the arrival of breakfast. Hannah opened a sleepy eye and smiled. She was always smiling. "Hey," she said, and he wondered if she'd been awake the whole time he'd been staring at her.

He returned the smile. "You hungry?"

"Mmmmm," she agreed, sitting up and pushing her tangled mop of hair back from her face. "I hope they bring those muffins again."

"They will," he said, heading for the door, "I asked them to."

"And you always get what you ask for?"

"Always."

She threw him a look that was half bemused and half amused as he turned and opened the door. If they didn't bring the muffins he'd-

"Hi."

It wasn't breakfast. It was Donna.

"I'm sorry to stop by so early, but I figured you'd be up anyway."

It was Donna. Donna was standing outside his room in jeans and a sweater, clutching a book in her hands. Behind him, Josh could hear the rustle of bedclothes and the bathroom door closing. He couldn't think of a thing to say. Donna was there, and his stupid, treacherous heart was thundering.

"You left this behind in the bar," she said, holding out his book.

All Josh could see was the bookmark poking out from between the pages, and all he could think was that Donna must have seen it and realised exactly what it meant. Which meant she knew. Suddenly he felt like a beached turtle that had lost its shell.

"Josh?" Her head cocked to one side, brow crumpling into one of her irritated frowns.

"Thanks," he managed to blurt, almost snatching the book from her hands. "I'd, uh, forgotten…" How to speak? Gah!

Donna smiled hesitantly. "We still need to talk about…you know, the campaign and Leo's offer. Well, not so much an offer, really, as a direct order to the troops, so…"

He could hear Hannah moving around behind him and tried to close the door a little. "Yeah, okay. Uh, now's not really-"

The door was pushed from his hands, opening widely. "Donna?" Hannah, as usual, had no sense of discretion. "Wow — you're up early."

Donna stared for a moment, and then her cheeks turned a delicate pink and she backed away. "God, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to intrude, I was just-"

Hannah slipped an arm around Josh's waist — a little possessively, perhaps? — her usually open face cautiously curious. "It's okay," she said. "We were awake, weren't we Josh?"

"Ah…yeah. It's fine," he said, strangely upset at the sight of Donna's obvious distress. "It's not a problem, we were awake..."

Donna's blush only deepened at the implication. "Okay, well I'll leave you to-"

"You want to have breakfast with us?" Hannah asked abruptly. Her smile was back, if a little more reserved than usual, and her shrewd, dark eyes were watching Donna with interest. A little too much interest for Josh's liking…

Sensibly, Donna shook her head. "No, I don't think that's-"

But right then the room-service guy showed up with breakfast, and Donna was snared. "Wonderful timing!" Hannah enthused, dragging Donna in by the arm and ordering extra everything from the waiter.

There was a low table at the far side of the room, in a bay-window, and Hannah led Donna over and made her sit. "Isn't the light here beautiful?" she asked. "I love this time of day."

Donna smiled, barely. "Yes, it's very…light."

Josh still hadn't moved from the door by the time the room service guy left. He wasn't entirely sure that he could move. What the hell was happening?

"Josh?" Hannah looked over at him with a question in her eyes. "Are you going to eat?"

There was no way — no way! — he could sit down and eat breakfast with Donna Moss. "Uh-"

"Come on! Look, they brought the muffins. Don't let them get cold."

He was going to sit down and eat breakfast with Donna Moss. He was going to sit down and eat breakfast with Donna Moss while wearing nothing more than his boxers and a t-shirt. Perhaps it was a nightmare? One of those horrible powerless dreams where you have to give the State of the Union butt naked in front of a Republican Congress.

He tried pinching himself, but it was no good. Bereft of any excuses he moved over to the table and sat down. He was opposite Hannah, which was a relief because it meant he didn't have to look at Donna. On the down side it meant that Donna was sitting next to him, entirely too close because he could actually feel her presence. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Donna, he noted, was ignoring him and staring firmly at the table. With a sardonic smile he sipped at his coffee and wondered if she was avoiding looking at the unmade bed on the other side of the room. As usual the little flare of triumph the thought provoked was instantly swallowed by a surge of regret.

He wished he knew why he still found it so painful to hurt her.

"Well," Hannah smiled, offering Donna a pastry. "This is nice."

***

Hannah Weiss had always been an observer of people. It was one of her many pleasures in life, and she was something of an expert. And so as she ate breakfast and chatted, she watched the little drama play out in front of her with curiosity. Josh looked more tense than she'd ever seen him, said little and kept throwing quick looks at Donna Moss. She was equally tense, although making a better show of hiding it. She'd angled herself away from Josh, toward Hannah, and was quite enthusiastic about her life on the campaign trail. Hannah didn't say so, but living out of a suitcase like that was pretty much her idea of hell. She was a firm believe in the Dorothy philosophy — there's no place like home. But what really made her curious about Donna wasn't her career, it was the fact that she was obviously the woman in the photo Josh carried around with him. The torn up, taped together photo.

These people had history and as she watched them each trying to crawl into their own shell, a few pieces started to fall into place. There was something haunted about Josh. It wasn't overt, and mostly he deflected it with his quick humour, but there was something aching inside that she'd never been able to reach. At times she'd seen it in his eyes; he'd drift off and his smile would fade and for a moment he was just somewhere else entirely. In those moments she'd wonder what he was hiding from, up here in his home town, but she'd never asked. She knew he wouldn't answer anyway.

Seeing him this morning, however, stirring his coffee around and around, she saw that expression again. Only this time it was much more raw, thinly disguised. It was one part anger, two parts regret, and obviously had everything to do with Donna Moss. Helping herself to another muffin, Hannah fixed her eyes on Josh. "So how long did you two work together at the White House?"

"About six and a half years," he said, not looking up. His memory, Hannah noticed, was quite accurate.

"Do you miss it? I can't imagine a more amazing place to work."

Neither of them answered. Josh just kept stirring his coffee and Donna's gaze moved to the window. At last, and clearly only out of politeness, Donna said, "It was the most…" Her gaze darted to Josh and back. "The most amazing time of my life. It really was."

Josh stopped stirring his coffee.

"Did you work closely with President Bartlet?" Hannah asked, to keep the conversation going. "Is he as impressive in person as he is in public?"

"He's a wonderful man, just wonderful," Donna said, her face lighting up. "I didn't really work closely with the President, but Josh did. Josh was really- I mean, Leo McGarry was the only person closer to the President than Josh."

"Really? You don't talk about that much, Josh."

"It's mostly boring," he said, not looking at her. "Mostly about legislative agendas getting screwed up, scavenging votes for bills, not getting done what we needed to get done. Pissing off senators."

"That was Josh's forte," Donna chipped in.

"Bartlet's Pit Bull," Hannah smiled. "I read that once."

Josh laughed a little. "Never believe anything you read in the papers."

"You had that headline pinned up in your office for months!" Donna protested, her voice warm with humour.

And for the first time, Josh looked at her. It was just a brief look, but there was a nostalgia in it that made Hannah sigh; these two had history, and it was far from dead and buried. She'd seen enough — too much, perhaps.

"Okay. I'm going to take a shower, so-"

Donna was on her feet. "Then I'll be going. Thank you for breakfast, it was-"

"You don't need to leave," Hannah said. "You and Josh seem like you have a lot to catch up on so-"

"We'll talk later. My flight leaves this evening, so…?" Her attention was fixed on Josh. "I'll need to give Leo an answer."

He nodded. "I know." Then, after a moment, "There's a little marina out at Compo Beach, it's-"

"I'll find it."

"Okay. Two o'clock? We can…talk, or something."

Donna's face was perfectly composed, and perfectly sad. Hannah didn't know what question Josh had been asked, but she suspected that Donna already knew the answer. "I'll see you," she said quietly, then turned to Hannah. "It's…really nice to meet you. I hope-" She smiled, eyes downcast. "You guys seem really good together."

Hannah didn't reply; she didn't know how to answer the slight tremble of Donna's lips. "Good luck," was all she said in the end, "with the campaign."

Donna smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks. And you know, if you want to help, just head on down to the local headquarters…"

Hannah laughed. "I'm not sure that stuffing envelopes is my thing, but I'll think about it."

"Every little helps," Donna smiled. And then with a final glance at Josh, she turned and headed for the door.

Josh watched her leave in silence, but the look in his eyes could have melted steel.

And it turned Hannah's heart to ice.

***

It was a cold winter's afternoon, the sun low in the pale sky and managing to avoid the fast-moving clouds blowing in from the sea. Donna arrived at the marina early, as always, and sat on a low stone wall staring out along the almost deserted beach that curved away to her left. In the summer, she imagined, it was full of kids and families, a perfect place for a day out. Idyllic, really. Not that Josh had ever been at home with nature, or kids, but she thought she could see him here one day. Him and Hannah.

Her stomach twisted strangely at the idea, half pain and half pleasure. As hard as it was to see him with her, Donna couldn't deny that he seemed happy here — for the first time in a long time. He was relaxed — he was reading a book. For fun! And Hannah… Hannah Weiss wasn't another Amy Gardner or Mandy Hampton. She was the kind of woman who was interested in everyone, who always saw the good in people, and who was utterly without pretension. She wasn't Josh's rival, she genuinely seemed to care about him and wasn't afraid to show it.

She was exactly what he needed, Donna realised. And she was glad about that, glad to see Josh happy and cared for. It was an odd sensation, because she was expecting to feel teeth-grinding envy. And there was a little of that in the mix too, but mostly she was pleased to see him so at peace. He deserved it. After everything he'd done, he deserved a little personal happiness. Her only regret — and it was an overwhelming regret — was that she saw in Hannah Weiss something of herself, of how she'd been before C.J. had torn the veil from her eyes and an act of terror had turned her life inside out. She'd cared for Josh; she'd spent years watching out for him, looking after him. And she'd loved being the first person he went to in a crisis, the last person to leave him at the end of the day. She'd loved that he needed her.

Yet somewhere along the way, she'd grown to hate it. Looking back, she could hardly understand how it had happened, but she remembered her mother's words; I don't like what this place is doing to you, Donna. It's making you hard.

Her mom was right. She wasn't like Hannah Weiss any more, she wasn't the wholesome hometown girl with hayseeds in her hair. She was Donna Moss, spokesperson for the Santos campaign, and player of the game. She wasn't interested in everyone she met, she was only interested in allies and the machinations of the enemy. She didn't see the good in anyone any more, she only saw the strategic advantage of their support. She was more like Amy Gardner than Hannah Weiss, and she'd been an eye-witness to the rail crash of that relationship.

It was ironic, she thought bitterly, that in becoming the woman she thought she wanted to be, she'd thrown away the very things that Josh obviously valued. There was probably a lesson in that, although she wasn't sure what it would-

"Hey."

She looked up, and there he was, standing a few feet away from her, wrapped up against the cold. She wondered how long he'd been there. "Hey," she said, getting to her feet.

Josh nodded toward a boardwalk leading out along the beach. "You want to walk a little? It's freezing."

"Sure," she nodded, falling into step beside him and gazing out toward the sea. "It's beautiful here."

"Yeah."

"Did you come down here a lot as kids?"

"At weekends, sometimes."

"Nice place for kids," she said, trying not to sigh. Instead, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the sea breeze fill her lungs. "Isn't it weird to think that on the other side of the water is a whole different continent?"

"Actually…on the other side of the water is New York. That's…Long Island Sound, not the Atlantic."

Donna opened her eyes. "You have no poetry in your soul."

"So many have said."

She didn't answer, but smiled a little. It almost felt like old times, which was more painful than anything since this could be the very last time they did this. Ever. The thought sliced like a cold knife, urging her to get it over with. "I know… I think I know what you're answer's going to be," she said, watching her boots crunching on the sand that blew in eddies across the boardwalk.

Josh didn't say anything.

"I don't blame you," she said, glancing over at him. "This is a lovely place."

He frowned a little. "The thing is…if I went back? I don't know what I'd be going back for. Another rung on the ladder? Another ladder? I don't know."

"There's Leo," Donna said.

Josh just looked at her, a searching look she didn't know how to interpret. "I'm not sure that's enough."

"No," she agreed, looking back out to sea — or whatever it was.

They'd ground to a halt and after a moment Josh said, "What…do you think I should do?"

She almost laughed, an expression hugely at odds with her leaden heart. "It doesn't matter what I-"

"It matters," he said softly. "It matters to me."

"Then…" Oh, God help me… "Then I think you should do what makes you happy. I think you're forty-three years old and that if Matt Santos is elected you'll be his chief of staff, and then you'll be in the White House for another eight years, which means you'll be fifty one by the time Sam Seaborne runs. And then you'll be his campaign manager, and his chief of staff, and after another eight years in the White House you'll be fifty-nine, by which point you'll be too old to have a life."

Josh was watching her with that expression of fond amusement she remembered so well. It was enough to pierce her heart. "So you're saying I should…?"

"Hannah seems-" She couldn't say it to his face, she had to drop his gaze and stare off along the beach. "You seem happy here, Josh. You should be happy, right? We should all be…" Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "We should all be happy."

"So you think I should…stay?"

It killed her to say it. It just killed her. "Yeah." She laughed again, to cover the pain. "Don't tell Leo I said that."

After a long, long silence, Josh spoke. His voice was rough-edged, but it could just have been the cold wind rasping in his throat. "What if I get bored?"

She smiled another incongruous smile. "I hate to say it, Josh, but…you really need to get a life."

He nodded, shrugging deeper into his coat. "So…this is it then? You're heading back to DC tonight?"

"Yeah." She dared not say more, her voice was brittle with emotion and she thought it would crack wide open if she tried to speak.

"I'll call Leo," Josh offered. "Tell him."

"Okay." Damn it, a tear was threatening to fall. She turned away and hastily brushed a hand over her eyes, hoping he'd think it was the wind making them water. Clearing her throat, she said, "I should get back and get my stuff."

"Right," Josh nodded, his own voice suddenly hard to hear over the roar of the surf.

Donna turned, half looking at him. "I don't know when we'll…"

"No," Josh agreed. "Not for a while, probably."

"No." Not ever, maybe.

He laughed suddenly, shaking his head. He too was staring out at the water, hands dug deep into his pockets. "I never thought we'd-" He sucked in a deep breath. "Anyway…you should go. Get your flight."

She wanted to go. She wanted to run until her lungs burned and the pain scorched away the tears before they fell. "Okay," she whispered, barely holding it together. "Bye, Josh."

He looked after her, hiding everything. "Bye."

She took three steps away from him before she stopped and turned around. He was watching her, eyes bright and dark in the cold. "Josh…" She couldn't leave it like this, not like this. "Before I go… There's something-" She blew out a nervous breath. "There's something I need you to know, about why I left."

He tensed, a subtle gesture she only saw in the tightening of his eyes. "I think we covered that in your apartment when-"

"No," she said. "There's something else. Something you don't know. I didn't leave because-" Oh God, how to say this? "A couple of days before I went to Gaza there was a crash. Do you remember? You were locked in your office with Kate Harper."

He nodded. "You were locked in C.J.'s office."

"Yes. And she, uh, she said some things that were… Well, they were difficult to hear."

Josh frowned. "What things?"

"About me, and you, and why I'd never left a job I'd outgrown years earlier."

He stared for a moment, then a flash of anger crossed his face. "C.J.? I can't believe-"

"Don't be mad at her, she was only telling the truth." Donna hesitated over that. "What she saw as the truth, and at the time I… Well, I knew she was right. I knew why I hadn't left, why I hadn't looked for another job. And I knew it had nothing to do with President Bartlet or the White House."

His eyes were wide now. "Donna…"

She held up a hand to stall him. "And then when I got back from Gaza, and Admiral Fitzwallace didn't get back…? I just couldn't carry on. I knew I had to…try for more. Try and make something more of my life, because I didn't die and maybe it would have been better if I had, and he'd survived, because I-"

"No! God, Donna-"

"I know you know what I mean, Josh. I know you understand what that feels like to be the one who survives." His mouth opened, then closed and he nodded slightly. She smiled, the tears had retreated and there was only sadness left. "I blamed you, because you were the reason I'd never moved on, and I couldn't forgive myself for wasting so much time. Back then, I needed to blame someone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it was you, I'm sorry I left the way I did. And if I hurt you in any way…"

He said nothing, just stared at her in open-mouthed disbelief. And then he shook his head and barked a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me what C.J. said?"

"Because the next time I saw you was in the hospital, and I didn't know how to-" She felt the tears come back, snatching at her throat, and wasn't sure how long she could keep them from falling. "I should go. I just wanted you to know that it wasn't you. And I didn't- I've never hated you, Josh. Never."

"Donna…"

"I should go."

"I can't-"

"I know. Goodbye, Josh. Be happy."

With that she started to walk away, swiping at the wind-blown tears on her cheeks.

"Donna! Donna…wait!"

She turned, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes.

"I…" He was just staring at her. "I… Thank you."

And that was it. That was goodbye. She nodded once, then fled back the way they'd walked together. A small part of her heart whispered that he'd come after her, that he'd pull her into his arms and hold her and kiss her and make everything perfect. But he didn't, and when she reached the end of the boardwalk she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing exactly where she'd left him, staring out over the waves.

She turned away, feeling the first hot tears begin to fall, and knew, for sure, that she'd never see him again.

***

It was almost dark before Josh pulled into the driveway of Hannah's house, and even though he was already a couple of hours late he didn't get out of the car right away. Instead he switched off the ignition and just sat staring at the warm, buttery light spilling from the windows of her house. Inside, he knew Hannah would be cooking. She'd promised him dinner tonight, and his stomach rumbled at the thought. He hadn't eaten this well, this frequently, since he'd left home.

His mom, he thought, would approve of Hannah Weiss. He suspected she knew how to make a good chicken soup too, no cliché intended. Hannah was what his Dad would have called a 'good woman', and Josh winced slightly at the notion; most of the women he'd dated would have slapped him across the face for even entertaining such a 1950s concept. But Hannah wasn't like those women, she was…comfortable. Reassuring. Steady.

She had no interest in pushing him off the career ladder in her attempt to shatter the glass ceiling, no need to go head-to-head with him over welfare reform, or to abandon him in favour of a better job for a who-the-hell-cares candidate…

Hannah was reliable, supportive. And safe. She was a safe bet.

He ran his hands over his face, a vague sense of self-recrimination lurking around the edges of his mind. There was nothing wrong with a safe bet, he thought, as he stared at the warm and welcoming house — as warm and welcoming as the woman within. He'd tried the adrenaline-fuelled high flyers, and had always gotten burnt. What kind of fool would he be not to learn from those mistakes? And yet…

I knew why I hadn't left, why I hadn't looked for another job. And I knew it had nothing to do with President Bartlet or the White House.

And yet, was it possible that Donna had just told him the reason she'd stayed with him for so long was because…because she had some kind of feelings for him?

A secret, barely investigated part of his heart told him it was the truth, that he'd always known how she'd felt and that he'd hidden from it, denied it, refused to examine his own feelings until it was too late; until that God-awful week in the hospital with that cold, desolate feeling of loss hollowing out his chest. The exact same feeling that had overwhelmed him the day he'd come to work and found a temp at her desk, or the day she'd started working for the opposition, or today, when he'd watched her walk away from him on the beach...

And he'd let it happen, each and every one of those times. He'd just let it happen, because going after her was impossible. A little pride, a little hurt, and a whole lot of fear had kept him back; if he'd gone after her and she'd turned him away it would have destroyed him. He knew that for sure; a single word from Donna could freeze his heart for good. It almost had.

So this was safer, and safer was good.

Safer was warm light spilling out of a comfortable house, a home-cooked meal, loving arms and the certain knowledge that nothing would change. Safer was home and hearth, and maybe his father had been right all along about the importance of those in a man's life.

Donna Moss might have wound herself around his heart, but Hannah Weiss would never hurt him.

The question is, a small voice whispered, will you hurt her?

Josh heard it, but dismissed it as he opened the car door. He wasn't that stupid and he knew himself well; he was nothing if he wasn't loyal. He'd never been the guy who cheated. Not ever.

He sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it go — along with the image of Donna, windswept and beautiful as she'd walked away from him this afternoon. It was over. It was all over, and his decision was made.

Slamming the car door, he headed up to Hannah's house and rang the bell. She answered right away, all smiles and hugs, and he knew he'd made the right choice. Donna only ever hugged him in extremis.

"So…?" Hannah said, taking his coat and hanging it up. "How did it go?"

Josh blinked, rubbing his hands together in the fragrant warmth of the house; he hadn't realised he'd gotten so cold. "The…Donna thing?"

"Yeah," Hannah replied, heading back toward the kitchen. Whatever she was cooking, it smelled fantastic. "What was the big, important thing she'd been sent up here to discuss?"

He followed, his stomach rumbling again in anticipation. "What are you making? It smells amazing."

"It's just a beef stew, but the secret is Jerusalem artichokes."

"Yeah? I'm starving."

She looked at him oddly, leaning back against the counter. "It's ready," she said, "if you want to eat."

"I'm about ready to chew off my own arm."

Hannah smiled. "Okay. Fetch a couple of plates? They're in the second cupboard over."

He did as he was asked, basking in the warmth and the aroma. This was exactly what he needed. This was-

"So what did Donna want?"

A sliver of irritation pierced the moment. "What?"

"Donna," Hannah pressed. "Don't tell me she'd come all this way just to say 'hi'."

"It was… It was nothing. Just- Leo wanted to hire me as a consultant on the Santos campaign."

Hannah's eyes widened, her smile a little less brilliant than usual. "Really? I thought you said he'd fired you."

"Yeah, well. A week's a long time in politics, as they say."

Hannah nodded, pressing her lips together. "What did-?" She smiled oddly and cocked her head. "So what did you say?"

For some reason, Josh found he couldn't look at her when he answered. "I said no, of course. What did you think?"

She took the plates from his hands with an indecipherable look and headed toward the table. "I think that I'm a little surprised."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

She shrugged. "What do you want me to say? I see you watching C-Span, devouring the papers, yelling at CNN. It's in your blood, Josh."

"Yeah, like heroine."

Hannah shook her head, went over to the oven and pulled out a large dish. When she lifted the lid, the steam swirled and the smell was divine. "You want to kick the habit?"

"Of politics…?" He paused, trying to picture himself spending his life in litigation or corporate law. "I…there's other kinds of politics. Local, state…"

As she brought the stew to the table, Hannah shook her head. "I think," she said, "that it's not politics you're trying to kick."

He felt a little tremor of unease ripple through him, like the pain of a hot drink on a sensitive tooth. "I don't know what you-"

"Josh…" Hannah sighed and took a seat, waving him toward the one opposite her. "Want to know what I think?"

He didn't. He really didn't. "Hannah-"

"I think you're mad as hell that Matt Santos fired you, and that this is your idea of payback."

He stared at her, he just stared, at once amazed and relieved that she could have got it so wrong. An inappropriate laugh escaped. "I- Yeah, maybe."

"You're cutting off your nose to spite your face," Hanna warned, ladling a huge portion of stew onto his plate. "And I think you'll regret it."

"Maybe you're right," he said cautiously, "maybe it's not politics I want to get out of my life. But even so, if I went back there…?" He deliberately left it hanging, wondering if she'd pick it up.

Being Hannah, she did. "If you went back there, I guess I wouldn't see so much of you."

"No."

Unless… Josh felt his heart begin to race, the way it did when he'd worked out how to pin the opposition. Hannah was right, of course she was right. The reason he didn't want to go back to DC nothing to do with wanting out of politics, and everything to do with escaping the siren call of Donna Moss. But maybe, just maybe, he could have it all.

He looked over at Hannah, through the faint swirl of steam. He looked at her flushed face, her serious dark eyes and unruly curls, he drew in the wonderful aroma of dinner and revelled in the warmth of her house and her heart. So open, so undemanding. So reliable. "What if you came too?"

Hannah's eyes opened a little wider, and for a moment a flash of a smile lit their depths. But doubt quickly crowded in and her wide, generous mouth only curved a little. "To DC?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't believe it there, seriously. For someone like you? Someone interested, educated… It's- It's just the most amazing place."

"Wow," Hannah breathed, setting the ladle down and pressing her hands against her cheeks. "That's… Unexpected."

Josh smiled. "In a good way?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Her hands dropped into her lap. "I guess… I guess I have a couple of questions, you know, before I decide."

Unable to resist the stew any longer Josh shovelled a fork full into his mouth and said, "Shoot."

"Okay…" Hannah wasn't eating, she was just watching him. Her eyes, he thought, had never looked more intent. "First…where would I live?"

"My apartment," he said around the food. Obvious, really.

Hannah nodded slowly. "Okay. The second one…" Her brow furrowed and she looked away from him, a brittle smile twisting her lips. "The second one's not so easy."

"Okay," Josh nodded, still eating. God it tasted good.

Hannah took a deep breath. "I've… I've noticed that, in the book you've been half reading for the past couple of months, there's a photograph."

The fork stopped halfway to Josh's mouth.

"I've noticed," Hannah continued, "that the photograph is of you and Donna Moss. And that someone ripped it up, and someone taped it back together. And that you carry it around with you all the time."

The food in his mouth was suddenly hard to swallow and Josh lowered the fork to his place. His heart beat a sickly staccato in his chest.

"I noticed that most of the time you can't look her in the eye, but that when you do you can't see anyone or anything else. And so my question-"

"Hannah…"

"My question is this —" She fixed him with a searching look; a look that demanded the truth. "Are you in love with Donna Moss?"

Josh just stared and found he had no answer.


	7. Road Less Traveled, The

The drive to the airport was a blur; the flight was simultaneously long and short, but it didn't matter because everything in the world had turned grey. She might have reached her apartment in good time, but it didn't matter because she didn't want an early night and she didn't want to get out of bed in the morning.

Life was tasteless and colourless, and her heart was heavy as stone in her chest. Josh was gone. She felt it now like never before. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. She'd done everything in her power to get him out of her life, and had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. Except they turned out to be her worst nightmare.

She got dressed the next morning mechanically, not even the prospect of her shiny new job enough to lift her leaden spirits. Josh was gone, out of her life. And she'd made it happen. Go Donna!

Skipping breakfast in favour of coffee, she decided to walk to work. It wasn't far, and it gave her a little time and space to think. Facing Leo wasn't something she was anticipating with much pleasure. He'd know already — Josh was always as good as his word — but that didn't make it any easier. She'd let him down, let the Congressman down, and even though she'd warned Leo she was the wrong person for the job, it didn't make her failure any less painful. Mostly because it was exquisitely personal. She'd lost Josh in every possible way; as a trusted colleague, as a friend and as…whatever they'd been to each other all these years. He was gone, and she'd driven him away.

Arriving at campaign headquarters before she was ready, Donna did her best to ignore anyone she recognised as she headed up to her office. It felt as though her loss was stamped on her forehead: Donna Moss, broken-hearted. But as she stepped out of the elevator into the chaos of the campaign, no one gasped in shock. A few people waved a quick hello, others called 'Hey Donna' in the middle of a phone call, but that was it. Life went on, she realised. For everyone around her, life went on as usual. She was the only one who was falling off a cliff with no one to catch her.

Hefting her heavy bag over one shoulder, she wove her way through the desks towards her own small office. It had given her a little thrill last week, to have an office. She'd wanted Josh to see it — to knock before he came in. Now he never would, and she realised that was all she'd really cared about anyway. She'd never been a seeker of status symbols, and she wasn't now. There had only ever been one person whose respect she'd craved, but she'd gone about trying to win it in such a brutal, backward way that he wasn't here to see the results of her labours.

Karma, she guessed.

Her inbox had mushroomed over the weekend, and she faced it with a heavy sigh on this most Monday-ish of Monday mornings.

"Hey, Donna!" Before she'd even sat down, Bram was in the doorway. "Leo said to go see him as soon as you were in."

"Thanks." She might have smiled, but she could hardly tell any more. Keeping the mask on this tight was already taking its toll. She'd hoped for an hour's relative peace before she had to discuss what had happened and explain why she'd failed to bring Josh back, but it wasn't to be. Bracing herself, she left her bag on the desk and headed for Leo's office. Better to get it over with, she told herself. Less time to dwell.

Leo was up to his eyes in it, as always. He beckoned her in, even as he barked orders into the phone clamped to one ear and rifled through papers on his desk. She felt like she was standing in the principle's office, hands clasped nervously in front of her, and dreading the next five minutes. But when he eventually put the phone down he smiled at her. "These kids," he said, gesturing at the telephone, "couldn't find their way up their own-" He stopped abruptly, as if remembering who he was addressing. "Good job," he said, changing tack mid flow. "I'm going to need you to get out there and start spinning it before you head out with the Congressman today. He'll be in town, which will help, but we're making one short statement and that's it. Anything else, you redirect the questions back to the issue which today is…" He glanced down at the spreadsheet on his desk, "Medicare."

"I- I'm sorry, Leo, you've lost me. What am I making a statement about?"

He glanced up under his eyebrows. "Josh."

She was staring, she knew she was staring like the proverbial deer in headlights. "Josh?"

"Did they put something in your food up in Westport? We're making a statement about Josh joining the campaign. Something short, about putting past mistakes behind us and-"

"Josh isn't coming back," she blurted, her confusion at least masking her feelings. "I'm sorry Leo, I tried, but he just didn't want to come back to- He's…amazingly happy up there."

Leo was looking at her as if she'd grown another head. "What are you talking about?"

"Josh. I'm really sorry, but I couldn't persuade him to-"

"I just got off the phone with him ten minutes ago, he'll be in town this afternoon."

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. All she managed was a stunned, "Oh…"

"He didn't tell you that?" Leo was shaking his head, smiling that exasperated smile. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"No," Donna said at last, ducking her head to cover the broad grin brewing somewhere inside. "He… Did he say…?" She hardly dared to hope. "Did he say anything about what changed his mind? Because last time I saw him he was staying in Westport."

Leo shook his head. "I don't know. He said a lot, most of it too fast to be understood by the human ear. Something about…Heather — Hannah? — telling him it was a good idea."

Her heart, which had been struggling back into life, stuttered again. "Hannah," she said. Of course. "She's coming too."

"He can bring the whole town, for all I care," Leo said, although there was something about the way he was avoiding her eye — as if affording her as much privacy as possible — that put Donna on edge. "As long as he's in here tomorrow morning, I'll be happy."

Donna smiled slightly. "Yes," she agreed, trying on the sentiment for size. "Yes, me too." It was better than nothing, after all. And maybe, if she was lucky, she could start rebuilding some of that trust she'd thrown away half a year earlier. Yeah, it was definitely better than nothing.

"Go on then," Leo said, looking up with a crooked smile, "get out there. Just remember; short and professional. We're not making a big thing outta this."

***

As he stepped off the plane at Dulles, Josh realised this had been the longest single period of his adult life that he'd been away from DC. He took a deep breath of air — full of the usual airport aromas of bad coffee and stress — and knew that he was home.

Hoisting his bag over one shoulder, he headed toward the cabs until he remembered he was out of cash and diverted to the ATM next to Starbucks. As the machine bleeped at him, his attention was caught by a TV on the coffee bar wall. It was showing CNN — a sure sign that he was back in Washington — and to his astonishment Donna was front-and-centre, talking to the cameras.

Blindly grabbing his cash from the machine, Josh stuffed it into his pockets and all-but vaulted over the chairs to get to the TV. The volume was low, but loud enough that he could hear Donna saying,

"…and feels that now is the time to call in Democratic talent from all quarters, in order to secure a brighter future for America."

She looked amazing. So confident, so poised. Who'd have thought she could have grown so much, so fast? Not him, which had been half the problem.

"How does the Congressman respond to the suggestion that this is evidence of vacillating leadership?" one of the reporters asked.

Donna nodded, smiling slightly as if anticipating the smack-down she was about to deliver. Josh swallowed; she was incredibly sexy. "Joshua Lyman made a mistake," said Donna. "And he paid for that mistake with his job. But Congressman Santos believes in giving people a second chance. We all make mistakes — there's not a single person out there who can honestly say they've never made a mistake. I know I can't." She glanced down for a moment, her lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. "At some point in our lives, we all need a second chance — the opportunity to prove that our mistake was an aberration, not the norm. Congressman Santos believes everyone deserves that second chance."

She paused long enough for one reporter to begin another question, but she cut him off with the doggedness of a woman going deliberately off-message. Josh found himself holding his breath. There was a spark in her eyes that reminded him of the irrepressible Donna Moss he'd first met all those years ago, and he had no idea what she would do next. "On a personal note," she said, stepping closer to the mic, "I'd just like to add that, in the case of Joshua Lyman, his mistake was very much an aberration."

She cast a quick look off to the side, and Josh imagined Leo standing there making not-so-subtle guillotine gestures. His heart started to race.

"Josh Lyman is a man who has served his country for over twenty years," Donna said. "A man who has worked tirelessly to improve the lives of all Americans. He's one of the most brilliant political minds of our generation; he's motivated by idealism, by faith in the American people, and by a belief that we all have a right to share in the wealth and prosperity of our nation. He's never sought fame, he's never sought office. All he ever wanted to do was to serve his country to the best of his ability, and to make life a little better for everyone. And that's exactly what he's done. "

Donna… Josh clamped down on a ridiculous surge of emotion, but couldn't repress a small smile. Her pride in him was more precious then ever, for having been lost for so long.

"Most people watching this won't know how much they owe to Josh Lyman," Donna continued, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "But I had the honour to work with him for several years in the White House, and so I know that 23.4 million households have been raised out of poverty by the Income Tax Credit Bill Josh drafted and manhandled through a Republican Congress. I know that the poorest 17% of parents now have subsidised day care so that they can work, and study, and provide for their children because of the 2001 Welfare Bill Josh pushed through Congress —

at considerable personal cost. I know that there are 54 million American families who can now afford to send their children to college without re-mortgaging their homes because of the College Tuition Tax Credit that Josh devised because he didn't think life should be this difficult for ordinary, hard working people.

"Josh did all this, and more, but he'd never take the credit for it. He doesn't want or expect public recognition. And that's lucky because all you guys want to report is that one afternoon he drove too fast and wrapped his car around a tree because-"

She cut herself off sharply, and Josh had a ridiculous urge to reach into the TV and see if she was okay. Any minute now, he thought, Leo was going to grab her by the hair and haul her ass out to the woodshed.

"I…" That self-deprecating smile was playing around Donna's lips again. "I'm sorry — I may have overstepped the mark a little. I just want you all to know that Josh is one of the very best men I've ever had the privilege to know, and that it would be a travesty for his talents to be cast aside because of one stupid mistake that hurt no one but himself. And I'm proud that Congressman Santos sees that; I'm proud that Congressman Santos is secure enough in his own judgement to say, along with Alexander Pope, that to err is human, to forgive divine."

And with that she was walking away from the microphones and the cameras. Josh just stared for an endless moment at the blank space she left behind, and then the anchor woman returned, full-volume, and the post-game analysis began. The spell broken, Josh turned on his heel, grabbed his backpack, and started yelling for a cab. He had to get to Leo. He had to get to Leo fast and convince him not to fire Donna for making the 'Vote Josh Lyman' stump speech of the decade.

He just hoped he could wipe the grin off his face before he reached Leo's office…

***

If Leo McGarry had been the sort of man to drop his head in his hands and curse his own bad luck, he'd have been doing it right there and then.

He's one of the most brilliant political minds of our generation…

All he ever wanted to do was to serve his country to the best of his ability, and to make life a little better for everyone…

He's one of the very best men I've ever had the privilege to know…

All of which would have been great. All of which would have been exactly what Donna Moss should have been saying, if only she'd been saying it about Matt Santos!

Leo growled under his breath and stabbed at the remote, turning the TV screen dark. These kids… He sometimes wondered if they'd all taken a pledge, the day they joined the first Bartlet campaign, to make his life impossible.

He'd always liked Donna, not least because she'd kept Josh in order with an affectionate ease that most people found surprising. But Leo had always understood. Josh Lyman was the very definition of mercurial — arrogant, hot-headed, sharp tempered, and quick-witted — but he had an old soul buried in there somewhere, and if you were lucky enough to earn his trust he'd lay his life down for you without a second thought. Donna, Leo always felt, had seen that in him from day one and Leo had respected her for that as much as her professionalism.

But this… Short and professional, he'd told her. She'd given him long and personal, with enough fodder to keep the whole news cycle focused on Josh and not the campaign. He should fire her on the spot, or at least take her off the press detail. Send her out to coordinate the mid-west fund raising, or something. Except he knew that, in about ten minutes, Josh would come barrelling in to his office to give him twenty reasons why he should keep her. None of which, of course, would be the real reason.

Crazy kids should know better by now. Should have kids of their own by now, if they weren't married to their jobs. And who was he to talk about that? But if experience had taught him anything, it had taught him that-

"You can't fire her!"

Leo glanced at his watch; Josh was eight minutes ahead of schedule. He must have run the whole way.

From behind his desk, Leo watched as Josh dropped his backpack onto the floor and collapsed into the nearest chair. Aside from being breathless — he really must have run — he looked remarkably well. Rocking back in his seat, Leo said, "You saw the press conference?"

"Yeah… Kind of went off the rails there at the end."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"She was…" Josh blinked several times. "I think she was distracted, or something. There was-"

"She doesn't get to make personal statements."

"No," Josh agreed, getting his breathing under control. His tie, however, was askew and his shirt half un-tucked. "But if you fire her now, that's just a whole new story about Matt Santos's staff and not Matt Santos…"

Which was the single biggest thing in Donna's favour, and Leo didn't need Josh Lyman to point that out. "I was hoping you'd have worked this out before you came back," he grumbled. "Why did you think I sent her up to get you instead of Lou?"

"Lou Thornton?"

"She's heading up communications."

Josh's eyebrows would have risen into his hair, if he'd had enough left. "If you'd sent Lou I'd be half way to Newfoundland by now."

"Josh…" Leo sighed. "I need you here. I really do. But I can't have this. I can't have you disappearing to Houston, or Westport, or the Epcot Centre because your feelings are hurt. And I can't have Donna Moss using the campaign mic to make personal statements of loyalty to her former boss."

Josh winced a little bit and had the good grace not to be able to look Leo in the eye. "Yeah…that's… That's a problem."

"I need this to be fixed."

Josh's gaze snapped back, guarded and curious. "Fixed as in…?"

"As in I never have to devote another minute of my life to thinking about it!"

"I can fix it," Josh said slowly. "I think. But… There's something you need to know, before I sign on the line."

Leo folded his arms, expecting everything and nothing. "Go on…"

"I'm here for the campaign. If we win, I'm not looking for a job in the administration."

Not for the first time in Leo's life, Josh had managed to surprise him. "Is that because you think the Congressman would offer me Chief of Staff? It's got your name on it, Josh. If you want it."

"I don't." There was an odd expression on his face, half amusement and half surprise. "I've got… I did some thinking the past few weeks, and- I'm forty-three years old, Leo. And what have I got? An apartment I never sleep in and a VCR I can't programme. I don't even have a dog." He shrugged. "There are just some other things I want to do with my life before… Well, while I can."

Leo watched Josh sitting there, with his rumpled suit and determined eyes, and thought that his father would never have been more proud. With a tug of bitter-sweet affection, he realised that Josh had grown up at last and that it was time for him to move on. Leo was going to miss him, but he wasn't going to hold him back. Not for one second. "You're the smartest kid I've ever known," he said fondly. "But that, right there, was the smartest thing you ever said."

Josh just smiled and took it as the blessing it was intended to be.

***

Donna climbed out of the cab, lugging her heavy bag after her, paid the driver and then just stood for a moment gazing up at the tall building that was campaign headquarters. It was almost midnight, and when she'd called in at the end of her day Leo had told her to go home and get some sleep. But she had a stack of things she needed to get done before the morning, and in truth she knew that sleep would elude her tonight.

Leo had had some sharp words about her impromptu speech. They'd been gently delivered, as always, but left her in no doubt that any kind of repeat would cost her her job. She'd apologised profusely, of course, and yet part of her didn't regret it. She felt as though she were breaking out, shaking off the fears that had kept her in check for so long. She'd meant every word, and she'd wanted people to hear it. Okay, so the middle of the Santos campaign wasn't the right place for her personal testimony, but there was never going to be a better one. Josh was everything she'd said he was, and more. He deserved to be recognised, if not by the world then at least by her. And knowing that he was here with Hannah had made it easier; there would be no insinuations about her motives, nothing of which to accuse him. They were both safe.

And it had felt good. It had actually felt good to say those things at last, to offer her feelings freely, without hope of anything in return. She felt cleansed, in a way. Free, and ready to move onto the next chapter of their relationship. She hoped, she very much hoped, they could be friends again, just like they used to be. And perhaps, with Hannah in his life, that friendship would be less complicated and more easily expressed.

With a little sigh, she thought that perhaps she was rather too determinedly looking for silver linings. But what was the alternative? Twenty-four hours ago, she'd thought she'd never see him again. This was better, this was so much better that it made her smile as she hefted her bag over one shoulder and headed into the building. Tomorrow morning he'd be in the office and they'd be working together again, just like the old days. Only better. Maybe, after all, he would be the one to teach her to fly.

There were only a few lights on when she stepped out of the elevator on their floor. A few desk lamps still shone, but the main lights were off and it lent the place a strange kind of silence. Later, she knew, the office would never sleep. But it was still early in the campaign, and Leo insisted they pace themselves. Carefully, she made her way toward her own office — that thought still made her smile — and amused herself with thoughts of the jokes Josh would make about that little reversal. Maybe he'd bring her coffee one day? Or maybe she'd bring him coffee, she thought as she rounded the corner to her office; after all now that she wasn't his assistant she could-

She crashed right into someone coming in the opposite direction and almost shrieked in fright. A stack of papers went flying, someone cursed, she looked up and found herself staring into the shocked face of Josh Lyman.

After a lengthy moment of staring, he said, "Hi."

"I didn't think you'd be here until the morning," she blustered, bending to pick up his scattered papers, using it to cover her sudden rush of feeling.

"Yeah, I was- My apartment stinks, and there was some…stuff to do here, so…" Shaking himself, he crouched down to help with the papers. "I thought Leo told you to go home."

"Yeah, well… I had some stuff to do too." She handed him the papers, found him watching her with that little smile of his, and looked away, trying to ignore the way it made her tummy flutter; that path had a Hannah-sized NO ENTRY sign right across it.

"Want a donut?" Josh asked suddenly, getting to his feet.

She blinked. "It's midnight."

"I went to 'Nothing But Donuts'..."

"Okay."

He nodded for her to follow. "They're this way…" This way turned out to be the big empty office next to Leo's. A white board — Josh's favourite planning tool — stood in the corner, already covered in some kind of chart with notes in blue and red scribbled around the edges.

"It's an issue diary," Josh said, dumping the papers he was carrying onto his desk and reaching over to snag the donut box. "Jelly filled or Boston crème?"

Donna peered into the box. "How many did you eat?"

"Are you going to start nagging already?"

"You know how much saturated fat is in these things?"

"No. I have no idea and no need to crowd my mind with that kind of trivia. You want one or not?"

She reached in and took the Boston crème. "I'll be doing penance for a week."

Josh's eyebrows lifted. "Can I watch?"

Donna was tempted to ask if Hannah would object, but took a bite of donut instead. It was sinfully good. She licked the chocolate from her lips, smiled, and found Josh staring at her hungrily. Holding out the donut, she said, "Want some?"

His eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. "Ah…yeah. No!" He cleared his throat and headed around his desk, dropping into his chair. After a moment, and in a lighter voice, he said, "So…how was your day?"

"My day?"

"I saw the press briefing…"

"Ah…" She dropped his gaze and found herself studying the chaos he'd managed to create on his desk already. "Leo gave me the tenth degree about that, so-"

"It was- It was nice. Those things you said, it was…totally inappropriate, but…nice."

"I meant it," she said, making herself meet his eye so he could see the truth. "And I don't think I've ever really thanked you — for everything you did for me. For what you taught me, the opportunity you gave me. If it wasn't for you I'd still be in Madison working for-"

"No." He was on his feet, restlessly pacing. "That was all you, Donna. You talked yourself into the job. I was just smart enough to listen."

She smiled at that. "I am grateful…"

"You don't need to be."

"I just wanted you to know."

"Well I do." After a beat he added, "So does half the country."

"Half?"

He shrugged. "Okay, several other people also know."

Donna smiled again, and it turned into a quiet laugh. This is nice, she thought. Just doing this again. It was good enough, and because she knew what life was like without it, she knew she'd never take it for granted again.

Dropping the donut back in the box, Donna licked the sugar from her fingers. "I'd better go do some work," she said. "And you should get home. You can't leave Hannah alone on her first night here." She smiled. "That's my piece of free romantic advice for the evening."

Josh was looking at her strangely and paused in his pacing. Then he frowned and dug his hands into his pockets, staring down at his toes. "Hannah's not here."

"Ah… Does she have to work out her notice at the school or-?"

"She's not… We're not…" He glanced up from under his brow. "She would never want to leave Westport, definitely not for DC."

There was a strange thing happening in Donna's chest. Her heart seemed to be simultaneously contracting and expanding; either way, it was doing a poor job of pushing the blood around her body because she was suddenly light headed and breathless. "I don't understand — you seemed so…happy."

"I was… For a while there, I thought maybe I could live that life, but- There were things here…there's something here that I couldn't leave behind." Something? Oh God…me? "I think Hannah saw that, she knew that. She's a very smart woman."

All Donna could muster was a faint, "Oh…"

"Yeah."

Taking a deep breath, feeling so exposed her skin might as well have been peeled, she could think of nothing else to say so headed for the door. "Well…you should get some sleep anyway. Make the most of it, while you can."

"Donna?"

She turned, heart racing.. "Yeah?"

He was just watching her across the silent room, his eyes darker than she remembered but just as intense. She found she couldn't breathe. "You don't have to look after me anymore."

"I wasn't."

"I don't want you to…find it irritating again."

She frowned. "Find what irritating?"

"Looking after me. Irritating; like peppermint ice-cream."

She laughed a little. "What are you talking about?"

"The bits get in your teeth…? You said- You don't remember?"

A flush stole across her face and she was glad of the soft lights. "I said looking after you was irritating?"

Josh shook his head as if dismissing a bad memory. "Forget about it. I don't know why I- Just… You don't need to do that now."

Donna sighed softly, assaulted by a hundred memories of fetching his coat, finding his bag, slotting plane tickets inside his jacket so he wouldn't lose them, recharging his cell phone… "It wasn't about you, Josh. It was about me. If I said that, it was about me feeling frustrated with myself, not you. I always… I always loved that you couldn't tie your shoelaces without me."

"I always loved that too," he said, his voice breaking a little. And for a moment she thought he was going to say more, that the air was going to come alive with the tension she felt in her chest and that something was going to happen. But then he dropped his gaze back to the floor and the moment was over.

Trying not to sigh, Donna turned away. "Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight," he said, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching intently, until she'd turned the corner and was out of sight.

By the time she reached her own office, Donna's legs felt like lead. The day was catching up with her and she was beginning to wonder if going home might not have been a better idea. Except then she wouldn't have found out about Hannah… The thought sent a buzz of excitement through every nerve, making her punch-drunk with adrenaline. Was it possible he'd come back to DC because of her? She didn't dare to hope, told herself to put it out of her mind, but…it was a futile attempt.

Josh was back, and he was alone. It turned everything upside down again — her life, it seemed, was the emotional roller coaster ride that just wouldn't end.

Tired, wired, and distracted, Donna slumped into her office and dropped her bag on the floor. Her desk was a patchwork of Post-it notes, and the light on her phone was flashing with messages. She ignored them, glanced at the Post-its and sank into her chair. And that's when she noticed it.

There, propped up against the desk lamp, was the photo — the one Josh had ripped up, taped together, and used as a book mark. It was just there, sitting on top of the chaos.

Her heart thudded once, loudly, in her chest.

What does this mean?

Carefully, with a slightly trembling hand, she reached out and picked it up. It was still a beautiful picture, worth framing if it weren't for the criss-crossing of tape. She smiled and ran a finger over Josh's face. He looked younger there, so did she. Maybe C.J. — she remembered now, that C.J. had been the one with the camera — maybe she still had the negatives. She'd like a pristine copy, she could get them one each, kind of like a-

"It's yours," Josh said, his husky voice startling her. She looked up and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded and watching her with that intent look again. He smiled a ghost of a smile and added, "If you want it."

She didn't know how to answer, wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about. But one thing she did know, she couldn't have this conversation from behind a desk. Getting to her feet, her legs no longer weary, Donna circled around to stand before him — not too close, but close enough — the picture still in her hand. "It's a great photo," she said. "I've always loved it."

"Me too," he said, still not moving from his place by the door. Still skewering her with a look that said they really weren't talking about the photo. God, she hoped they weren't. After a moment Josh added, "Hannah… She said I should give this back to you. She said…" He hesitated, the pretence faltering. "She said it was yours all along." His mouth twisted into an ironic smile and she knew he was laughing at himself. "She was right, of course. Everyone knows me better than I do."

"I thought I'd lost it." Donna said in a scratchy whisper. "I thought I'd lost it for good."

His smile faded. "No." Stepping into the room, closer but still out of reach, he said in a low, heated voice, "It got a little damaged there for a while, but you never lost it."

Donna looked down, eyes blurring as she studied the torn photograph and ran a finger over the tape. "You didn't call," she said, dismayed by the tremor in her voice. "You had an accident, and you didn't call."

She heard the breath hitch in his lungs and when he spoke his voice was very soft, very quiet. "I didn't think you'd… If I'd called and you hadn't come-"

"I would have!" she protested, tears standing in her eyes. "Nothing would have stopped me. I'd have been right there, but they wouldn't let me in and they wouldn't let me see you and I thought you didn't want me-"

"Donna…" Her name on his lips sounded like a plea, or a prayer. He looked as confused as she'd ever seen him, rumpled in his jeans and dark shirt, and entirely open. For the first time since the day they'd met, he was entirely open to her. Everything was in his eyes: love, fear, passion, despair, hope. It was all there for the taking, and there was nothing else to do. There was really nothing else to do but let the photo drop from her fingers and fall into his arms. Her heart danced with joy and relief as he wrapped her in a tight embrace and buried his face against her shoulder, his warm breath stirring the hairs on her neck in delicious anticipation. She was smiling — she was laughing — as she pulled him closer, running her fingers over his back and up into his hair, and somehow their heads were both turning until her nose grazed his cheek and his lips brushed against hers lightly, tentatively, again and again, until she breathed his name against his mouth and he…stopped.

His breathing ragged, his lips hovered over hers for an endless, teasing moment, and then, with a small noise in the back of his throat he kissed her. He really kissed her; a scorching, searching kiss that pierced her soul and bound her to him forever.

***

It was a Sunday morning, a week since this new life had begun, and the warm sunshine was peeking through the half-drawn drapes and cutting a golden swathe across the bedroom floor. Donna could see dust motes dancing lazily in the sunlight and it made her smile. If she could have, she'd have danced right along with them. Her soul felt lighter than air.

But a weight held her in place. A wonderful, delicious weight. She looked down from where she sat propped up in bed, sipping her early morning coffee, and smiled. One of the many surprises she'd discovered over the last six and a half days was exactly how tactile Josh Lyman could be. Really she should have guessed, what with all the touching of shoulders and backs and hugging, but this… She'd slept with her fair share of men, she'd be the first to admit it, but this constant physical contact was something new. Not that she was complaining… So here she sat, sipping her coffee, with Josh's head resting against her leg and his hand across her lap.

She liked his hands. It had been one of the first things she'd noticed about him, after the smile and the eyes. He had long, elegant fingers — artists hands, her mother would have said, although Donna had never seen any sign of him whipping out a paint brush. But nevertheless he had those wonderfully graceful fingers that knew exactly how to touch her…

Smiling at the memory she traced a line across the back of his hand, over his knuckle and along the length of his ring finger and found herself wondering what it would look like wearing a wedding band. She laughed quietly at herself; it had only been a week! Well, eight years and a week, she supposed. But it was enough, for her at least. Josh, she suspected, would need a little longer to figure it out. Not that she was in any rush. This, right now, was as close to perfect as she could imagine.

With a happy sigh she ran a hand through his hair, thick and soft between her fingers, and wondered if all this touching was because he was afraid to let go. Afraid that she might disappear if he didn't hold on to her. It wouldn't surprise her, given his history — and theirs, she supposed. She'd left him, twice, and although she didn't regret it, she knew how much it had hurt. But never again. Not ever again.

She threaded her fingers through his hair again, and saw him smile. God, she loved that smile. And she loved how he liked to pretend he was sleeping so he could abandon the arrogant, self-satisfied persona and just nestle up and hold her close. She loved that he knew she knew that, and that he didn't care. Ruffling his hair she said, "You want coffee?"

"I'm sleeping," he mumbled, snuggling up against her with a broad smile.

"Ah. In that case…" Putting the coffee on the night stand, she reached for her phone.

Josh opened a disgruntled eye. "If you're calling the office, I'm throwing your phone out the window."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I am." He closed his eyes again and held on tighter. "Doesn't mean I'm not paying attention…"

Donna smiled and listened to the phone ring. "Careful your ears don't burn… Hey Mom, it's Donna… Yeah, good. Listen, I've got some news. It's about me and Josh…"

He sat up abruptly, eyes wide, looking ridiculously anxious given that her mom was his number one fan. Well, number two fan. Donna took his hand and squeezed, relishing the feel of his strong fingers wrapping around hers. Love you, she mouthed, her mom's excited chatter deafening one ear.

Josh smiled, a heated cocktail of wonder and delight, and drew her fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. And there, right there, Donna realised that life had made one of those hairpin turns beneath her feet.

She was on a new road now, and it would be rocky in places, the going would get tough, but she knew she'd never abandon it. Life was all about the journey and those you met along the way — and Donna felt privileged to be sharing her path with this remarkable, infuriating, exhilarating man. As she drew his hand back to her own lips and pressed a silent kiss against his fingers, she vowed that they would see this journey to its end together. Wherever and whenever that might be…


End file.
